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- Herausgeber: Henry Fielding
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
An author ought to consider himself, not as a gentleman who gives a private or eleemosynary treat, but rather as one who keeps a public ordinary, at which all persons are welcome for their money. In the former case, it is well known that the entertainer provides what fare he pleases; and though this should be very indifferent, and utterly disagreeable to the taste of his company, they must not find any fault; nay, on the contrary, good breeding forces them outwardly to approve and to commend whatever is set before them. Now the contrary of this happens to the master of an ordinary. Men who pay for what they eat will insist on gratifying their palates, however nice and whimsical these may prove; and if everything is not agreeable to their taste, will challenge a right to censure, to abuse, and to d—n their dinner without controul.
To prevent, therefore, giving offence to their customers by any such disappointment, it hath been usual with the honest and well-meaning host to provide a bill of fare which all persons may peruse at their first entrance into the house; and having thence acquainted themselves with the entertainment which they may expect, may either stay and regale with what is provided for them, or may depart to some other ordinary better accommodated to their taste.
As we do not disdain to borrow wit or wisdom from any man who is capable of lending us either, we have condescended to take a hint from these honest victuallers, and shall prefix not only a general bill of fare to our whole entertainment, but shall likewise give the reader particular bills to every course which is to be served up in this and the ensuing volumes.
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Henry Fielding
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Table of contents
BOOK I. — CONTAINING AS MUCH OF THE BIRTH OF THE FOUNDLING AS IS NECESSARY OR PROPER TO ACQUAINT THE READER WITH IN THE BEGINNING OF THIS HISTORY.
BOOK II. — CONTAINING SCENES OF MATRIMONIAL FELICITY IN DIFFERENT DEGREES OF LIFE; AND VARIOUS OTHER TRANSACTIONS DURING THE FIRST TWO YEARS AFTER THE MARRIAGE BETWEEN CAPTAIN BLIFIL AND MISS BRIDGET ALLWORTHY.
BOOK III. — CONTAINING THE MOST MEMORABLE TRANSACTIONS WHICH PASSED IN THE FAMILY OF MR ALLWORTHY, FROM THE TIME WHEN TOMMY JONES ARRIVED AT THE AGE OF FOURTEEN, TILL HE ATTAINED THE AGE OF NINETEEN. IN THIS BOOK THE READER MAY PICK UP SOME HINTS CONCERNING THE EDUCATION OF CHILDREN.
BOOK IV. — CONTAINING THE TIME OF A YEAR.
BOOK V. — CONTAINING A PORTION OF TIME SOMEWHAT LONGER THAN HALF A YEAR.
BOOK VI. — CONTAINING ABOUT THREE WEEKS.
BOOK VII. — CONTAINING THREE DAYS.
BOOK VIII. — CONTAINING ABOUT TWO DAYS.
BOOK IX. — CONTAINING TWELVE HOURS.
BOOK X. — IN WHICH THE HISTORY GOES FORWARD ABOUT TWELVE HOURS.
BOOK XI. — CONTAINING ABOUT THREE DAYS.
BOOK XII. — CONTAINING THE SAME INDIVIDUAL TIME WITH THE FORMER.
BOOK XIII. — CONTAINING THE SPACE OF TWELVE DAYS.
BOOK XIV. — CONTAINING TWO DAYS.
BOOK XV. — IN WHICH THE HISTORY ADVANCES ABOUT TWO DAYS.
BOOK XVI.
BOOK XVII.
BOOK XVIII.
BOOK I. — CONTAINING AS MUCH OF THE BIRTH OF THE FOUNDLING AS IS NECESSARY OR PROPER TO ACQUAINT THE READER WITH IN THE BEGINNING OF THIS HISTORY.
Chapter
i. — The introduction to the work, or bill of fare to the
feast.An
author ought to consider himself, not as a gentleman who gives a
private or eleemosynary treat, but rather as one who keeps a public
ordinary, at which all persons are welcome for their money. In the
former case, it is well known that the entertainer provides what
fare
he pleases; and though this should be very indifferent, and utterly
disagreeable to the taste of his company, they must not find any
fault; nay, on the contrary, good breeding forces them outwardly to
approve and to commend whatever is set before them. Now the
contrary
of this happens to the master of an ordinary. Men who pay for what
they eat will insist on gratifying their palates, however nice and
whimsical these may prove; and if everything is not agreeable to
their taste, will challenge a right to censure, to abuse, and to
d—n
their dinner without controul.To
prevent, therefore, giving offence to their customers by any such
disappointment, it hath been usual with the honest and well-meaning
host to provide a bill of fare which all persons may peruse at
their
first entrance into the house; and having thence acquainted
themselves with the entertainment which they may expect, may either
stay and regale with what is provided for them, or may depart to
some
other ordinary better accommodated to their taste.As
we do not disdain to borrow wit or wisdom from any man who is
capable
of lending us either, we have condescended to take a hint from
these
honest victuallers, and shall prefix not only a general bill of
fare
to our whole entertainment, but shall likewise give the reader
particular bills to every course which is to be served up in this
and
the ensuing volumes.The
provision, then, which we have here made is no other than
Human Nature. Nor
do I fear that my sensible reader, though most luxurious in his
taste, will start, cavil, or be offended, because I have named but
one article. The tortoise—as the alderman of Bristol, well learned
in eating, knows by much experience—besides the delicious calipash
and calipee, contains many different kinds of food; nor can the
learned reader be ignorant, that in human nature, though here
collected under one general name, is such prodigious variety, that
a
cook will have sooner gone through all the several species of
animal
and vegetable food in the world, than an author will be able to
exhaust so extensive a subject.An
objection may perhaps be apprehended from the more delicate, that
this dish is too common and vulgar; for what else is the subject of
all the romances, novels, plays, and poems, with which the stalls
abound? Many exquisite viands might be rejected by the epicure, if
it
was a sufficient cause for his contemning of them as common and
vulgar, that something was to be found in the most paltry alleys
under the same name. In reality, true nature is as difficult to be
met with in authors, as the Bayonne ham, or Bologna sausage, is to
be
found in the shops.But
the whole, to continue the same metaphor, consists in the cookery
of
the author; for, as Mr Pope tells us—
“
True
wit is nature to advantage drest;
What oft was thought, but ne’er so well exprest.”The
same animal which hath the honour to have some part of his flesh
eaten at the table of a duke, may perhaps be degraded in another
part, and some of his limbs gibbeted, as it were, in the vilest
stall
in town. Where, then, lies the difference between the food of the
nobleman and the porter, if both are at dinner on the same ox or
calf, but in the seasoning, the dressing, the garnishing, and the
setting forth? Hence the one provokes and incites the most languid
appetite, and the other turns and palls that which is the sharpest
and keenest.In
like manner, the excellence of the mental entertainment consists
less
in the subject than in the author’s skill in well dressing it up.
How pleased, therefore, will the reader be to find that we have, in
the following work, adhered closely to one of the highest
principles
of the best cook which the present age, or perhaps that of
Heliogabalus, hath produced. This great man, as is well known to
all
lovers of polite eating, begins at first by setting plain things
before his hungry guests, rising afterwards by degrees as their
stomachs may be supposed to decrease, to the very quintessence of
sauce and spices. In like manner, we shall represent human nature
at
first to the keen appetite of our reader, in that more plain and
simple manner in which it is found in the country, and shall
hereafter hash and ragoo it with all the high French and Italian
seasoning of affectation and vice which courts and cities afford.
By
these means, we doubt not but our reader may be rendered desirous
to
read on for ever, as the great person just above-mentioned is
supposed to have made some persons eat.Having
premised thus much, we will now detain those who like our bill of
fare no longer from their diet, and shall proceed directly to serve
up the first course of our history for their entertainment.Chapter
ii. — A short description of squire Allworthy, and a fuller account
of Miss Bridget Allworthy, his sister.In
that part of the western division of this kingdom which is commonly
called Somersetshire, there lately lived, and perhaps lives still,
a
gentleman whose name was Allworthy, and who might well be called
the
favourite of both nature and fortune; for both of these seem to
have
contended which should bless and enrich him most. In this
contention,
nature may seem to some to have come off victorious, as she
bestowed
on him many gifts, while fortune had only one gift in her power;
but
in pouring forth this, she was so very profuse, that others perhaps
may think this single endowment to have been more than equivalent
to
all the various blessings which he enjoyed from nature. From the
former of these, he derived an agreeable person, a sound
constitution, a solid understanding, and a benevolent heart; by the
latter, he was decreed to the inheritance of one of the largest
estates in the county.This
gentleman had in his youth married a very worthy and beautiful
woman,
of whom he had been extremely fond: by her he had three children,
all
of whom died in their infancy. He had likewise had the misfortune
of
burying this beloved wife herself, about five years before the time
in which this history chuses to set out. This loss, however great,
he
bore like a man of sense and constancy, though it must be confest
he
would often talk a little whimsically on this head; for he
sometimes
said he looked on himself as still married, and considered his wife
as only gone a little before him, a journey which he should most
certainly, sooner or later, take after her; and that he had not the
least doubt of meeting her again in a place where he should never
part with her more—sentiments for which his sense was arraigned by
one part of his neighbours, his religion by a second, and his
sincerity by a third.He
now lived, for the most part, retired in the country, with one
sister, for whom he had a very tender affection. This lady was now
somewhat past the age of thirty, an aera at which, in the opinion
of
the malicious, the title of old maid may with no impropriety be
assumed. She was of that species of women whom you commend rather
for
good qualities than beauty, and who are generally called, by their
own sex, very good sort of women—as good a sort of woman, madam, as
you would wish to know. Indeed, she was so far from regretting want
of beauty, that she never mentioned that perfection, if it can be
called one, without contempt; and would often thank God she was not
as handsome as Miss Such-a-one, whom perhaps beauty had led into
errors which she might have otherwise avoided. Miss Bridget
Allworthy
(for that was the name of this lady) very rightly conceived the
charms of person in a woman to be no better than snares for
herself,
as well as for others; and yet so discreet was she in her conduct,
that her prudence was as much on the guard as if she had all the
snares to apprehend which were ever laid for her whole sex. Indeed,
I
have observed, though it may seem unaccountable to the reader, that
this guard of prudence, like the trained bands, is always readiest
to
go on duty where there is the least danger. It often basely and
cowardly deserts those paragons for whom the men are all wishing,
sighing, dying, and spreading, every net in their power; and
constantly attends at the heels of that higher order of women for
whom the other sex have a more distant and awful respect, and whom
(from despair, I suppose, of success) they never venture to
attack.Reader,
I think proper, before we proceed any farther together, to acquaint
thee that I intend to digress, through this whole history, as often
as I see occasion, of which I am myself a better judge than any
pitiful critic whatever; and here I must desire all those critics
to
mind their own business, and not to intermeddle with affairs or
works
which no ways concern them; for till they produce the authority by
which they are constituted judges, I shall not plead to their
jurisdiction.Chapter
iii. — An odd accident which befel Mr Allworthy at his return home.
The decent behaviour of Mrs Deborah Wilkins, with some proper
animadversions on bastards.I
have told my reader, in the preceding chapter, that Mr Allworthy
inherited a large fortune; that he had a good heart, and no family.
Hence, doubtless, it will be concluded by many that he lived like
an
honest man, owed no one a shilling, took nothing but what was his
own, kept a good house, entertained his neighbours with a hearty
welcome at his table, and was charitable to the poor, i.e. to those
who had rather beg than work, by giving them the offals from it;
that
he died immensely rich and built an hospital.And
true it is that he did many of these things; but had he done
nothing
more I should have left him to have recorded his own merit on some
fair freestone over the door of that hospital. Matters of a much
more
extraordinary kind are to be the subject of this history, or I
should
grossly mis-spend my time in writing so voluminous a work; and you,
my sagacious friend, might with equal profit and pleasure travel
through some pages which certain droll authors have been
facetiously
pleased to call The
History of England.Mr
Allworthy had been absent a full quarter of a year in London, on
some
very particular business, though I know not what it was; but judge
of
its importance by its having detained him so long from home, whence
he had not been absent a month at a time during the space of many
years. He came to his house very late in the evening, and after a
short supper with his sister, retired much fatigued to his chamber.
Here, having spent some minutes on his knees—a custom which he
never broke through on any account—he was preparing to step into
bed, when, upon opening the cloathes, to his great surprize he
beheld
an infant, wrapt up in some coarse linen, in a sweet and profound
sleep, between his sheets. He stood some time lost in astonishment
at
this sight; but, as good nature had always the ascendant in his
mind,
he soon began to be touched with sentiments of compassion for the
little wretch before him. He then rang his bell, and ordered an
elderly woman-servant to rise immediately, and come to him; and in
the meantime was so eager in contemplating the beauty of innocence,
appearing in those lively colours with which infancy and sleep
always
display it, that his thoughts were too much engaged to reflect that
he was in his shirt when the matron came in. She had indeed given
her
master sufficient time to dress himself; for out of respect to him,
and regard to decency, she had spent many minutes in adjusting her
hair at the looking-glass, notwithstanding all the hurry in which
she
had been summoned by the servant, and though her master, for aught
she knew, lay expiring in an apoplexy, or in some other fit.It
will not be wondered at that a creature who had so strict a regard
to
decency in her own person, should be shocked at the least deviation
from it in another. She therefore no sooner opened the door, and
saw
her master standing by the bedside in his shirt, with a candle in
his
hand, than she started back in a most terrible fright, and might
perhaps have swooned away, had he not now recollected his being
undrest, and put an end to her terrors by desiring her to stay
without the door till he had thrown some cloathes over his back,
and
was become incapable of shocking the pure eyes of Mrs Deborah
Wilkins, who, though in the fifty-second year of her age, vowed she
had never beheld a man without his coat. Sneerers and prophane wits
may perhaps laugh at her first fright; yet my graver reader, when
he
considers the time of night, the summons from her bed, and the
situation in which she found her master, will highly justify and
applaud her conduct, unless the prudence which must be supposed to
attend maidens at that period of life at which Mrs Deborah had
arrived, should a little lessen his admiration.When
Mrs Deborah returned into the room, and was acquainted by her
master
with the finding the little infant, her consternation was rather
greater than his had been; nor could she refrain from crying out,
with great horror of accent as well as look, “My good sir! what’s
to be done?” Mr Allworthy answered, she must take care of the child
that evening, and in the morning he would give orders to provide it
a
nurse. “Yes, sir,” says she; “and I hope your worship will send
out your warrant to take up the hussy its mother, for she must be
one
of the neighbourhood; and I should be glad to see her committed to
Bridewell, and whipt at the cart’s tail. Indeed, such wicked sluts
cannot be too severely punished. I’ll warrant ‘tis not her first,
by her impudence in laying it to your worship.” “In laying it to
me, Deborah!” answered Allworthy: “I can’t think she hath any
such design. I suppose she hath only taken this method to provide
for
her child; and truly I am glad she hath not done worse.” “I don’t
know what is worse,” cries Deborah, “than for such wicked
strumpets to lay their sins at honest men’s doors; and though your
worship knows your own innocence, yet the world is censorious; and
it
hath been many an honest man’s hap to pass for the father of
children he never begot; and if your worship should provide for the
child, it may make the people the apter to believe; besides, why
should your worship provide for what the parish is obliged to
maintain? For my own part, if it was an honest man’s child,
indeed—but for my own part, it goes against me to touch these
misbegotten wretches, whom I don’t look upon as my
fellow-creatures. Faugh! how it stinks! It doth not smell like a
Christian. If I might be so bold to give my advice, I would have it
put in a basket, and sent out and laid at the churchwarden’s door.
It is a good night, only a little rainy and windy; and if it was
well
wrapt up, and put in a warm basket, it is two to one but it lives
till it is found in the morning. But if it should not, we have
discharged our duty in taking proper care of it; and it is,
perhaps,
better for such creatures to die in a state of innocence, than to
grow up and imitate their mothers; for nothing better can be
expected
of them.”There
were some strokes in this speech which perhaps would have offended
Mr
Allworthy, had he strictly attended to it; but he had now got one
of
his fingers into the infant’s hand, which, by its gentle pressure,
seeming to implore his assistance, had certainly out-pleaded the
eloquence of Mrs Deborah, had it been ten times greater than it
was.
He now gave Mrs Deborah positive orders to take the child to her
own
bed, and to call up a maid-servant to provide it pap, and other
things, against it waked. He likewise ordered that proper cloathes
should be procured for it early in the morning, and that it should
be
brought to himself as soon as he was stirring.Such
was the discernment of Mrs Wilkins, and such the respect she bore
her
master, under whom she enjoyed a most excellent place, that her
scruples gave way to his peremptory commands; and she took the
child
under her arms, without any apparent disgust at the illegality of
its
birth; and declaring it was a sweet little infant, walked off with
it
to her own chamber.Allworthy
here betook himself to those pleasing slumbers which a heart that
hungers after goodness is apt to enjoy when thoroughly satisfied.
As
these are possibly sweeter than what are occasioned by any other
hearty meal, I should take more pains to display them to the
reader,
if I knew any air to recommend him to for the procuring such an
appetite.Chapter
iv. — The reader’s neck brought into danger by a description; his
escape; and the great condescension of Miss Bridget
Allworthy.The
Gothic stile of building could produce nothing nobler than Mr
Allworthy’s house. There was an air of grandeur in it that struck
you with awe, and rivalled the beauties of the best Grecian
architecture; and it was as commodious within as venerable
without.It
stood on the south-east side of a hill, but nearer the bottom than
the top of it, so as to be sheltered from the north-east by a grove
of old oaks which rose above it in a gradual ascent of near half a
mile, and yet high enough to enjoy a most charming prospect of the
valley beneath.In
the midst of the grove was a fine lawn, sloping down towards the
house, near the summit of which rose a plentiful spring, gushing
out
of a rock covered with firs, and forming a constant cascade of
about
thirty feet, not carried down a regular flight of steps, but
tumbling
in a natural fall over the broken and mossy stones till it came to
the bottom of the rock, then running off in a pebly channel, that
with many lesser falls winded along, till it fell into a lake at
the
foot of the hill, about a quarter of a mile below the house on the
south side, and which was seen from every room in the front. Out of
this lake, which filled the center of a beautiful plain,
embellished
with groups of beeches and elms, and fed with sheep, issued a
river,
that for several miles was seen to meander through an amazing
variety
of meadows and woods till it emptied itself into the sea, with a
large arm of which, and an island beyond it, the prospect was
closed.On
the right of this valley opened another of less extent, adorned
with
several villages, and terminated by one of the towers of an old
ruined abby, grown over with ivy, and part of the front, which
remained still entire.The
left-hand scene presented the view of a very fine park, composed of
very unequal ground, and agreeably varied with all the diversity
that
hills, lawns, wood, and water, laid out with admirable taste, but
owing less to art than to nature, could give. Beyond this, the
country gradually rose into a ridge of wild mountains, the tops of
which were above the clouds.It
was now the middle of May, and the morning was remarkably serene,
when Mr Allworthy walked forth on the terrace, where the dawn
opened
every minute that lovely prospect we have before described to his
eye; and now having sent forth streams of light, which ascended the
blue firmament before him, as harbingers preceding his pomp, in the
full blaze of his majesty rose the sun, than which one object alone
in this lower creation could be more glorious, and that Mr
Allworthy
himself presented—a human being replete with benevolence,
meditating in what manner he might render himself most acceptable
to
his Creator, by doing most good to his creatures.Reader,
take care. I have unadvisedly led thee to the top of as high a hill
as Mr Allworthy’s, and how to get thee down without breaking thy
neck, I do not well know. However, let us e’en venture to slide
down together; for Miss Bridget rings her bell, and Mr Allworthy is
summoned to breakfast, where I must attend, and, if you please,
shall
be glad of your company.The
usual compliments having past between Mr Allworthy and Miss
Bridget,
and the tea being poured out, he summoned Mrs Wilkins, and told his
sister he had a present for her, for which she thanked
him—imagining,
I suppose, it had been a gown, or some ornament for her person.
Indeed, he very often made her such presents; and she, in
complacence
to him, spent much time in adorning herself. I say in complacence
to
him, because she always exprest the greatest contempt for dress,
and
for those ladies who made it their study.But
if such was her expectation, how was she disappointed when Mrs
Wilkins, according to the order she had received from her master,
produced the little infant? Great surprizes, as hath been observed,
are apt to be silent; and so was Miss Bridget, till her brother
began, and told her the whole story, which, as the reader knows it
already, we shall not repeat.Miss
Bridget had always exprest so great a regard for what the ladies
are
pleased to call virtue, and had herself maintained such a severity
of
character, that it was expected, especially by Wilkins, that she
would have vented much bitterness on this occasion, and would have
voted for sending the child, as a kind of noxious animal,
immediately
out of the house; but, on the contrary, she rather took the
good-natured side of the question, intimated some compassion for
the
helpless little creature, and commended her brother’s charity in
what he had done.Perhaps
the reader may account for this behaviour from her condescension to
Mr Allworthy, when we have informed him that the good man had ended
his narrative with owning a resolution to take care of the child,
and
to breed him up as his own; for, to acknowledge the truth, she was
always ready to oblige her brother, and very seldom, if ever,
contradicted his sentiments. She would, indeed, sometimes make a
few
observations, as that men were headstrong, and must have their own
way, and would wish she had been blest with an independent fortune;
but these were always vented in a low voice, and at the most
amounted
only to what is called muttering.However,
what she withheld from the infant, she bestowed with the utmost
profuseness on the poor unknown mother, whom she called an impudent
slut, a wanton hussy, an audacious harlot, a wicked jade, a vile
strumpet, with every other appellation with which the tongue of
virtue never fails to lash those who bring a disgrace on the sex. —
A consultation was now entered into how to proceed in order to
discover the mother. A scrutiny was first made into the characters
of
the female servants of the house, who were all acquitted by Mrs
Wilkins, and with apparent merit; for she had collected them
herself,
and perhaps it would be difficult to find such another set of
scarecrows.The
next step was to examine among the inhabitants of the parish; and
this was referred to Mrs Wilkins, who was to enquire with all
imaginable diligence, and to make her report in the
afternoon.Matters
being thus settled, Mr Allworthy withdrew to his study, as was his
custom, and left the child to his sister, who, at his desire, had
undertaken the care of it.Chapter
v. — Containing a few common matters, with a very uncommon
observation upon them.When
her master was departed, Mrs Deborah stood silent, expecting her
cue
from Miss Bridget; for as to what had past before her master, the
prudent housekeeper by no means relied upon it, as she had often
known the sentiments of the lady in her brother’s absence to differ
greatly from those which she had expressed in his presence. Miss
Bridget did not, however, suffer her to continue long in this
doubtful situation; for having looked some time earnestly at the
child, as it lay asleep in the lap of Mrs Deborah, the good lady
could not forbear giving it a hearty kiss, at the same time
declaring
herself wonderfully pleased with its beauty and innocence. Mrs
Deborah no sooner observed this than she fell to squeezing and
kissing, with as great raptures as sometimes inspire the sage dame
of
forty and five towards a youthful and vigorous bridegroom, crying
out, in a shrill voice, “O, the dear little creature!—The dear,
sweet, pretty creature! Well, I vow it is as fine a boy as ever was
seen!”These
exclamations continued till they were interrupted by the lady, who
now proceeded to execute the commission given her by her brother,
and
gave orders for providing all necessaries for the child, appointing
a
very good room in the house for his nursery. Her orders were indeed
so liberal, that, had it been a child of her own, she could not
have
exceeded them; but, lest the virtuous reader may condemn her for
showing too great regard to a base-born infant, to which all
charity
is condemned by law as irreligious, we think proper to observe that
she concluded the whole with saying, “Since it was her brother’s
whim to adopt the little brat, she supposed little master must be
treated with great tenderness. For her part, she could not help
thinking it was an encouragement to vice; but that she knew too
much
of the obstinacy of mankind to oppose any of their ridiculous
humours.”With
reflections of this nature she usually, as has been hinted,
accompanied every act of compliance with her brother’s
inclinations; and surely nothing could more contribute to heighten
the merit of this compliance than a declaration that she knew, at
the
same time, the folly and unreasonableness of those inclinations to
which she submitted. Tacit obedience implies no force upon the
will,
and consequently may be easily, and without any pains, preserved;
but
when a wife, a child, a relation, or a friend, performs what we
desire, with grumbling and reluctance, with expressions of dislike
and dissatisfaction, the manifest difficulty which they undergo
must
greatly enhance the obligation.As
this is one of those deep observations which very few readers can
be
supposed capable of making themselves, I have thought proper to
lend
them my assistance; but this is a favour rarely to be expected in
the
course of my work. Indeed, I shall seldom or never so indulge him,
unless in such instances as this, where nothing but the inspiration
with which we writers are gifted, can possibly enable any one to
make
the discovery.Chapter
vi. — Mrs Deborah is introduced into the parish with a simile. A
short account of Jenny Jones, with the difficulties and
discouragements which may attend young women in the pursuit of
learning.Mrs
Deborah, having disposed of the child according to the will of her
master, now prepared to visit those habitations which were supposed
to conceal its mother.Not
otherwise than when a kite, tremendous bird, is beheld by the
feathered generation soaring aloft, and hovering over their heads,
the amorous dove, and every innocent little bird, spread wide the
alarm, and fly trembling to their hiding-places. He proudly beats
the
air, conscious of his dignity, and meditates intended
mischief.So
when the approach of Mrs Deborah was proclaimed through the street,
all the inhabitants ran trembling into their houses, each matron
dreading lest the visit should fall to her lot. She with stately
steps proudly advances over the field: aloft she bears her towering
head, filled with conceit of her own pre-eminence, and schemes to
effect her intended discovery.The
sagacious reader will not from this simile imagine these poor
people
had any apprehension of the design with which Mrs Wilkins was now
coming towards them; but as the great beauty of the simile may
possibly sleep these hundred years, till some future commentator
shall take this work in hand, I think proper to lend the reader a
little assistance in this place.It
is my intention, therefore, to signify, that, as it is the nature
of
a kite to devour little birds, so is it the nature of such persons
as
Mrs Wilkins to insult and tyrannize over little people. This being
indeed the means which they use to recompense to themselves their
extreme servility and condescension to their superiors; for nothing
can be more reasonable, than that slaves and flatterers should
exact
the same taxes on all below them, which they themselves pay to all
above them.Whenever
Mrs Deborah had occasion to exert any extraordinary condescension
to
Mrs Bridget, and by that means had a little soured her natural
disposition, it was usual with her to walk forth among these
people,
in order to refine her temper, by venting, and, as it were, purging
off all ill humours; on which account she was by no means a welcome
visitant: to say the truth, she was universally dreaded and hated
by
them all.On
her arrival in this place, she went immediately to the habitation
of
an elderly matron; to whom, as this matron had the good fortune to
resemble herself in the comeliness of her person, as well as in her
age, she had generally been more favourable than to any of the
rest.
To this woman she imparted what had happened, and the design upon
which she was come thither that morning. These two began presently
to
scrutinize the characters of the several young girls who lived in
any
of those houses, and at last fixed their strongest suspicion on one
Jenny Jones, who, they both agreed, was the likeliest person to
have
committed this fact.This
Jenny Jones was no very comely girl, either in her face or person;
but nature had somewhat compensated the want of beauty with what is
generally more esteemed by those ladies whose judgment is arrived
at
years of perfect maturity, for she had given her a very uncommon
share of understanding. This gift Jenny had a good deal improved by
erudition. She had lived several years a servant with a
schoolmaster,
who, discovering a great quickness of parts in the girl, and an
extraordinary desire of learning—for every leisure hour she was
always found reading in the books of the scholars—had the
good-nature, or folly—just as the reader pleases to call it—to
instruct her so far, that she obtained a competent skill in the
Latin
language, and was, perhaps, as good a scholar as most of the young
men of quality of the age. This advantage, however, like most
others
of an extraordinary kind, was attended with some small
inconveniences: for as it is not to be wondered at, that a young
woman so well accomplished should have little relish for the
society
of those whom fortune had made her equals, but whom education had
rendered so much her inferiors; so is it matter of no greater
astonishment, that this superiority in Jenny, together with that
behaviour which is its certain consequence, should produce among
the
rest some little envy and ill-will towards her; and these had,
perhaps, secretly burnt in the bosoms of her neighbours ever since
her return from her service.Their
envy did not, however, display itself openly, till poor Jenny, to
the
surprize of everybody, and to the vexation of all the young women
in
these parts, had publickly shone forth on a Sunday in a new silk
gown, with a laced cap, and other proper appendages to
these.The
flame, which had before lain in embryo, now burst forth. Jenny had,
by her learning, increased her own pride, which none of her
neighbours were kind enough to feed with the honour she seemed to
demand; and now, instead of respect and adoration, she gained
nothing
but hatred and abuse by her finery. The whole parish declared she
could not come honestly by such things; and parents, instead of
wishing their daughters the same, felicitated themselves that their
children had them not.Hence,
perhaps, it was, that the good woman first mentioned the name of
this
poor girl to Mrs Wilkins; but there was another circumstance that
confirmed the latter in her suspicion; for Jenny had lately been
often at Mr Allworthy’s house. She had officiated as nurse to Miss
Bridget, in a violent fit of illness, and had sat up many nights
with
that lady; besides which, she had been seen there the very day
before
Mr Allworthy’s return, by Mrs Wilkins herself, though that
sagacious person had not at first conceived any suspicion of her on
that account: for, as she herself said, “She had always esteemed
Jenny as a very sober girl (though indeed she knew very little of
her), and had rather suspected some of those wanton trollops, who
gave themselves airs, because, forsooth, they thought themselves
handsome.”Jenny
was now summoned to appear in person before Mrs Deborah, which she
immediately did. When Mrs Deborah, putting on the gravity of a
judge,
with somewhat more than his austerity, began an oration with the
words, “You audacious strumpet!” in which she proceeded rather to
pass sentence on the prisoner than to accuse her.Though
Mrs Deborah was fully satisfied of the guilt of Jenny, from the
reasons above shewn, it is possible Mr Allworthy might have
required
some stronger evidence to have convicted her; but she saved her
accusers any such trouble, by freely confessing the whole fact with
which she was charged.This
confession, though delivered rather in terms of contrition, as it
appeared, did not at all mollify Mrs Deborah, who now pronounced a
second judgment against her, in more opprobrious language than
before; nor had it any better success with the bystanders, who were
now grown very numerous. Many of them cried out, “They thought what
madam’s silk gown would end in;” others spoke sarcastically of
her learning. Not a single female was present but found some means
of
expressing her abhorrence of poor Jenny, who bore all very
patiently,
except the malice of one woman, who reflected upon her person, and
tossing up her nose, said, “The man must have a good stomach who
would give silk gowns for such sort of trumpery!” Jenny replied to
this with a bitterness which might have surprized a judicious
person,
who had observed the tranquillity with which she bore all the
affronts to her chastity; but her patience was perhaps tired out,
for
this is a virtue which is very apt to be fatigued by
exercise.Mrs
Deborah having succeeded beyond her hopes in her inquiry, returned
with much triumph, and, at the appointed hour, made a faithful
report
to Mr Allworthy, who was much surprized at the relation; for he had
heard of the extraordinary parts and improvements of this girl,
whom
he intended to have given in marriage, together with a small
living,
to a neighbouring curate. His concern, therefore, on this occasion,
was at least equal to the satisfaction which appeared in Mrs
Deborah,
and to many readers may seem much more reasonable.Miss
Bridget blessed herself, and said, “For her part, she should never
hereafter entertain a good opinion of any woman.” For Jenny before
this had the happiness of being much in her good graces
also.The
prudent housekeeper was again dispatched to bring the unhappy
culprit
before Mr Allworthy, in order, not as it was hoped by some, and
expected by all, to be sent to the house of correction, but to
receive wholesome admonition and reproof; which those who relish
that
kind of instructive writing may peruse in the next chapter.Chapter
vii. — Containing such grave matter, that the reader cannot laugh
once through the whole chapter, unless peradventure he should laugh
at the author.When
Jenny appeared, Mr Allworthy took her into his study, and spoke to
her as follows: “You know, child, it is in my power as a
magistrate, to punish you very rigorously for what you have done;
and
you will, perhaps, be the more apt to fear I should execute that
power, because you have in a manner laid your sins at my
door.
“
But,
perhaps, this is one reason which hath determined me to act in a
milder manner with you: for, as no private resentment should ever
influence a magistrate, I will be so far from considering your
having
deposited the infant in my house as an aggravation of your offence,
that I will suppose, in your favour, this to have proceeded from a
natural affection to your child, since you might have some hopes to
see it thus better provided for than was in the power of yourself,
or
its wicked father, to provide for it. I should indeed have been
highly offended with you had you exposed the little wretch in the
manner of some inhuman mothers, who seem no less to have abandoned
their humanity, than to have parted with their chastity. It is the
other part of your offence, therefore, upon which I intend to
admonish you, I mean the violation of your chastity;—a crime,
however lightly it may be treated by debauched persons, very
heinous
in itself, and very dreadful in its consequences.
“
The
heinous nature of this offence must be sufficiently apparent to
every
Christian, inasmuch as it is committed in defiance of the laws of
our
religion, and of the express commands of Him who founded that
religion.
“
And
here its consequences may well be argued to be dreadful; for what
can
be more so, than to incur the divine displeasure, by the breach of
the divine commands; and that in an instance against which the
highest vengeance is specifically denounced?
“
But
these things, though too little, I am afraid, regarded, are so
plain,
that mankind, however they may want to be reminded, can never need
information on this head. A hint, therefore, to awaken your sense
of
this matter, shall suffice; for I would inspire you with
repentance,
and not drive you to desperation.
“
There
are other consequences, not indeed so dreadful or replete with
horror
as this; and yet such, as, if attentively considered, must, one
would
think, deter all of your sex at least from the commission of this
crime.
“
For
by it you are rendered infamous, and driven, like lepers of old,
out
of society; at least, from the society of all but wicked and
reprobate persons; for no others will associate with you.
“
If
you have fortunes, you are hereby rendered incapable of enjoying
them; if you have none, you are disabled from acquiring any, nay
almost of procuring your sustenance; for no persons of character
will
receive you into their houses. Thus you are often driven by
necessity
itself into a state of shame and misery, which unavoidably ends in
the destruction of both body and soul.
“
Can
any pleasure compensate these evils? Can any temptation have
sophistry and delusion strong enough to persuade you to so simple a
bargain? Or can any carnal appetite so overpower your reason, or so
totally lay it asleep, as to prevent your flying with affright and
terror from a crime which carries such punishment always with
it?
“
How
base and mean must that woman be, how void of that dignity of mind,
and decent pride, without which we are not worthy the name of human
creatures, who can bear to level herself with the lowest animal,
and
to sacrifice all that is great and noble in her, all her heavenly
part, to an appetite which she hath in common with the vilest
branch
of the creation! For no woman, sure, will plead the passion of love
for an excuse. This would be to own herself the mere tool and
bubble
of the man. Love, however barbarously we may corrupt and pervert
its
meaning, as it is a laudable, is a rational passion, and can never
be
violent but when reciprocal; for though the Scripture bids us love
our enemies, it means not with that fervent love which we naturally
bear towards our friends; much less that we should sacrifice to
them
our lives, and what ought to be dearer to us, our innocence. Now in
what light, but that of an enemy, can a reasonable woman regard the
man who solicits her to entail on herself all the misery I have
described to you, and who would purchase to himself a short,
trivial,
contemptible pleasure, so greatly at her expense! For, by the laws
of
custom, the whole shame, with all its dreadful consequences, falls
intirely upon her. Can love, which always seeks the good of its
object, attempt to betray a woman into a bargain where she is so
greatly to be the loser? If such corrupter, therefore, should have
the impudence to pretend a real affection for her, ought not the
woman to regard him not only as an enemy, but as the worst of all
enemies, a false, designing, treacherous, pretended friend, who
intends not only to debauch her body, but her understanding at the
same time?”Here
Jenny expressing great concern, Allworthy paused a moment, and then
proceeded: “I have talked thus to you, child, not to insult you for
what is past and irrevocable, but to caution and strengthen you for
the future. Nor should I have taken this trouble, but from some
opinion of your good sense, notwithstanding the dreadful slip you
have made; and from some hopes of your hearty repentance, which are
founded on the openness and sincerity of your confession. If these
do
not deceive me, I will take care to convey you from this scene of
your shame, where you shall, by being unknown, avoid the punishment
which, as I have said, is allotted to your crime in this world; and
I
hope, by repentance, you will avoid the much heavier sentence
denounced against it in the other. Be a good girl the rest of your
days, and want shall be no motive to your going astray; and,
believe
me, there is more pleasure, even in this world, in an innocent and
virtuous life, than in one debauched and vicious.
“
As
to your child, let no thoughts concerning it molest you; I will
provide for it in a better manner than you can ever hope. And now
nothing remains but that you inform me who was the wicked man that
seduced you; for my anger against him will be much greater than you
have experienced on this occasion.”Jenny
now lifted her eyes from the ground, and with a modest look and
decent voice thus began:—
“
To
know you, sir, and not love your goodness, would be an argument of
total want of sense or goodness in any one. In me it would amount
to
the highest ingratitude, not to feel, in the most sensible manner,
the great degree of goodness you have been pleased to exert on this
occasion. As to my concern for what is past, I know you will spare
my
blushes the repetition. My future conduct will much better declare
my
sentiments than any professions I can now make. I beg leave to
assure
you, sir, that I take your advice much kinder than your generous
offer with which you concluded it; for, as you are pleased to say,
sir, it is an instance of your opinion of my understanding.”—Here
her tears flowing apace, she stopped a few moments, and then
proceeded thus:—“Indeed, sir, your kindness overcomes me; but I
will endeavour to deserve this good opinion: for if I have the
understanding you are so kindly pleased to allow me, such advice
cannot be thrown away upon me. I thank you, sir, heartily, for your
intended kindness to my poor helpless child: he is innocent, and I
hope will live to be grateful for all the favours you shall show
him.
But now, sir, I must on my knees entreat you not to persist in
asking
me to declare the father of my infant. I promise you faithfully you
shall one day know; but I am under the most solemn ties and
engagements of honour, as well as the most religious vows and
protestations, to conceal his name at this time. And I know you too
well, to think you would desire I should sacrifice either my honour
or my religion.”Mr
Allworthy, whom the least mention of those sacred words was
sufficient to stagger, hesitated a moment before he replied, and
then
told her, she had done wrong to enter into such engagements to a
villain; but since she had, he could not insist on her breaking
them.
He said, it was not from a motive of vain curiosity he had
inquired,
but in order to punish the fellow; at least, that he might not
ignorantly confer favours on the undeserving.As
to these points, Jenny satisfied him by the most solemn assurances,
that the man was entirely out of his reach; and was neither subject
to his power, nor in any probability of becoming an object of his
goodness.The
ingenuity of this behaviour had gained Jenny so much credit with
this
worthy man, that he easily believed what she told him; for as she
had
disdained to excuse herself by a lie, and had hazarded his further
displeasure in her present situation, rather than she would forfeit
her honour or integrity by betraying another, he had but little
apprehensions that she would be guilty of falsehood towards
himself.He
therefore dismissed her with assurances that he would very soon
remove her out of the reach of that obloquy she had incurred;
concluding with some additional documents, in which he recommended
repentance, saying, “Consider, child, there is one still to
reconcile yourself to, whose favour is of much greater importance
to
you than mine.”Chapter
viii. — A dialogue between Mesdames Bridget and Deborah; containing
more amusement, but less instruction, than the former.When
Mr Allworthy had retired to his study with Jenny Jones, as hath
been
seen, Mrs Bridget, with the good housekeeper, had betaken
themselves
to a post next adjoining to the said study; whence, through the
conveyance of a keyhole, they sucked in at their ears the
instructive
lecture delivered by Mr Allworthy, together with the answers of
Jenny, and indeed every other particular which passed in the last
chapter.This
hole in her brother’s study-door was indeed as well known to Mrs
Bridget, and had been as frequently applied to by her, as the
famous
hole in the wall was by Thisbe of old. This served to many good
purposes. For by such means Mrs Bridget became often acquainted
with
her brother’s inclinations, without giving him the trouble of
repeating them to her. It is true, some inconveniences attended
this
intercourse, and she had sometimes reason to cry out with Thisbe,
in
Shakspeare, “O, wicked, wicked wall!” For as Mr Allworthy was a
justice of peace, certain things occurred in examinations
concerning
bastards, and such like, which are apt to give great offence to the
chaste ears of virgins, especially when they approach the age of
forty, as was the case of Mrs Bridget. However, she had, on such
occasions, the advantage of concealing her blushes from the eyes of
men; and De non
apparentibus, et non existentibus eadem est ratio—in
English, “When a woman is not seen to blush, she doth not blush at
all.”Both
the good women kept strict silence during the whole scene between
Mr
Allworthy and the girl; but as soon as it was ended, and that
gentleman was out of hearing, Mrs Deborah could not help exclaiming
against the clemency of her master, and especially against his
suffering her to conceal the father of the child, which she swore
she
would have out of her before the sun set.At
these words Mrs Bridget discomposed her features with a smile (a
thing very unusual to her). Not that I would have my reader
imagine,
that this was one of those wanton smiles which Homer would have you
conceive came from Venus, when he calls her the laughter-loving
goddess; nor was it one of those smiles which Lady Seraphina shoots
from the stage-box, and which Venus would quit her immortality to
be
able to equal. No, this was rather one of those smiles which might
be
supposed to have come from the dimpled cheeks of the august
Tisiphone, or from one of the misses, her sisters.With
such a smile then, and with a voice sweet as the evening breeze of
Boreas in the pleasant month of November, Mrs Bridget gently
reproved
the curiosity of Mrs Deborah; a vice with which it seems the latter
was too much tainted, and which the former inveighed against with
great bitterness, adding, “That, among all her faults, she thanked
Heaven her enemies could not accuse her of prying into the affairs
of
other people.”She
then proceeded to commend the honour and spirit with which Jenny
had
acted. She said, she could not help agreeing with her brother, that
there was some merit in the sincerity of her confession, and in her
integrity to her lover: that she had always thought her a very good
girl, and doubted not but she had been seduced by some rascal, who
had been infinitely more to blame than herself, and very probably
had
prevailed with her by a promise of marriage, or some other
treacherous proceeding.This
behaviour of Mrs Bridget greatly surprised Mrs Deborah; for this
well-bred woman seldom opened her lips, either to her master or his
sister, till she had first sounded their inclinations, with which
her
sentiments were always consonant. Here, however, she thought she
might have launched forth with safety; and the sagacious reader
will
not perhaps accuse her of want of sufficient forecast in so doing,
but will rather admire with what wonderful celerity she tacked
about,
when she found herself steering a wrong course.
“
Nay,
madam,” said this able woman, and truly great politician, “I must
own I cannot help admiring the girl’s spirit, as well as your
ladyship. And, as your ladyship says, if she was deceived by some
wicked man, the poor wretch is to be pitied. And to be sure, as
your
ladyship says, the girl hath always appeared like a good, honest,
plain girl, and not vain of her face, forsooth, as some wanton
husseys in the neighbourhood are.”
“
You
say true, Deborah,” said Miss Bridget. “If the girl had been one
of those vain trollops, of which we have too many in the parish, I
should have condemned my brother for his lenity towards her. I saw
two farmers’ daughters at church, the other day, with bare necks. I
protest they shocked me. If wenches will hang out lures for
fellows,
it is no matter what they suffer. I detest such creatures; and it
would be much better for them that their faces had been seamed with
the smallpox; but I must confess, I never saw any of this wanton
behaviour in poor Jenny: some artful villain, I am convinced, hath
betrayed, nay perhaps forced her; and I pity the poor wretch with
all
my heart.”Mrs
Deborah approved all these sentiments, and the dialogue concluded
with a general and bitter invective against beauty, and with many
compassionate considerations for all honest plain girls who are
deluded by the wicked arts of deceitful men.Chapter
ix. — Containing matters which will surprize the reader.Jenny
returned home well pleased with the reception she had met with from
Mr Allworthy, whose indulgence to her she industriously made
public;
partly perhaps as a sacrifice to her own pride, and partly from the
more prudent motive of reconciling her neighbours to her, and
silencing their clamours.But
though this latter view, if she indeed had it, may appear
reasonable
enough, yet the event did not answer her expectation; for when she
was convened before the justice, and it was universally apprehended
that the house of correction would have been her fate, though some
of
the young women cryed out “It was good enough for her,” and
diverted themselves with the thoughts of her beating hemp in a silk
gown; yet there were many others who began to pity her condition:
but
when it was known in what manner Mr Allworthy had behaved, the tide
turned against her. One said, “I’ll assure you, madam hath had
good luck.” A second cryed, “See what it is to be a favourite!”
A third, “Ay, this comes of her learning.” Every person made some
malicious comment or other on the occasion, and reflected on the
partiality of the justice.The
behaviour of these people may appear impolitic and ungrateful to
the
reader, who considers the power and benevolence of Mr Allworthy.
But
as to his power, he never used it; and as to his benevolence, he
exerted so much, that he had thereby disobliged all his neighbours;
for it is a secret well known to great men, that, by conferring an
obligation, they do not always procure a friend, but are certain of
creating many enemies.Jenny
was, however, by the care and goodness of Mr Allworthy, soon
removed
out of the reach of reproach; when malice being no longer able to
vent its rage on her, began to seek another object of its
bitterness,
and this was no less than Mr Allworthy, himself; for a whisper soon
went abroad, that he himself was the father of the foundling
child.This
supposition so well reconciled his conduct to the general opinion,
that it met with universal assent; and the outcry against his
lenity
soon began to take another turn, and was changed into an invective
against his cruelty to the poor girl. Very grave and good women
exclaimed against men who begot children, and then disowned them.
Nor
were there wanting some, who, after the departure of Jenny,
insinuated that she was spirited away with a design too black to be
mentioned, and who gave frequent hints that a legal inquiry ought
to
be made into the whole matter, and that some people should be
forced
to produce the girl.These
calumnies might have probably produced ill consequences, at the
least
might have occasioned some trouble, to a person of a more doubtful
and suspicious character than Mr Allworthy was blessed with; but in
his case they had no such effect; and, being heartily despised by
him, they served only to afford an innocent amusement to the good
gossips of the neighbourhood.But
as we cannot possibly divine what complection our reader may be of,
and as it will be some time before he will hear any more of Jenny,
we
think proper to give him a very early intimation, that Mr Allworthy
was, and will hereafter appear to be, absolutely innocent of any
criminal intention whatever. He had indeed committed no other than
an
error in politics, by tempering justice with mercy, and by refusing
to gratify the good-natured disposition of the mob,[*] with an
object
for their compassion to work on in the person of poor Jenny, whom,
in
order to pity, they desired to have seen sacrificed to ruin and
infamy, by a shameful correction in Bridewell.[*]Whenever
this word occurs in our writings, it intends persons
without virtue or sense, in all stations; and many of the
highest
rank are often meant by it.So
far from complying with this their inclination, by which all hopes
of
reformation would have been abolished, and even the gate shut
against
her if her own inclinations should ever hereafter lead her to chuse
the road of virtue, Mr Allworthy rather chose to encourage the girl
to return thither by the only possible means; for too true I am
afraid it is, that many women have become abandoned, and have sunk
to
the last degree of vice, by being unable to retrieve the first
slip.
This will be, I am afraid, always the case while they remain among
their former acquaintance; it was therefore wisely done by Mr
Allworthy, to remove Jenny to a place where she might enjoy the
pleasure of reputation, after having tasted the ill consequences of
losing it.To
this place therefore, wherever it was, we will wish her a good
journey, and for the present take leave of her, and of the little
foundling her child, having matters of much higher importance to
communicate to the reader.Chapter
x. — The hospitality of Allworthy; with a short sketch of the
characters of two brothers, a doctor and a captain, who were
entertained by that gentleman.Neither
Mr Allworthy’s house, nor his heart, were shut against any part of
mankind, but they were both more particularly open to men of merit.
To say the truth, this was the only house in the kingdom where you
was sure to gain a dinner by deserving it.Above
all others, men of genius and learning shared the principal place
in
his favour; and in these he had much discernment: for though he had
missed the advantage of a learned education, yet, being blest with
vast natural abilities, he had so well profited by a vigorous
though
late application to letters, and by much conversation with men of
eminence in this way, that he was himself a very competent judge in
most kinds of literature.It
is no wonder that in an age when this kind of merit is so little in
fashion, and so slenderly provided for, persons possessed of it
should very eagerly flock to a place where they were sure of being
received with great complaisance; indeed, where they might enjoy
almost the same advantages of a liberal fortune as if they were
entitled to it in their own right; for Mr Allworthy was not one of
those generous persons who are ready most bountifully to bestow
meat,
drink, and lodging on men of wit and learning, for which they
expect
no other return but entertainment, instruction, flattery, and
subserviency; in a word, that such persons should be enrolled in
the
number of domestics, without wearing their master’s cloathes, or
receiving wages.On
the contrary, every person in this house was perfect master of his
own time: and as he might at his pleasure satisfy all his appetites
within the restrictions only of law, virtue, and religion; so he
might, if his health required, or his inclination prompted him to
temperance, or even to abstinence, absent himself from any meals,
or
retire from them, whenever he was so disposed, without even a
sollicitation to the contrary: for, indeed, such sollicitations
from
superiors always savour very strongly of commands. But all here
were
free from such impertinence, not only those whose company is in all
other places esteemed a favour from their equality of fortune, but
even those whose indigent circumstances make such an eleemosynary
abode convenient to them, and who are therefore less welcome to a
great man’s table because they stand in need of it.Among
others of this kind was Dr Blifil, a gentleman who had the
misfortune
of losing the advantage of great talents by the obstinacy of a
father, who would breed him to a profession he disliked. In
obedience
to this obstinacy the doctor had in his youth been obliged to study
physic, or rather to say he studied it; for in reality books of
this
kind were almost the only ones with which he was unacquainted; and
unfortunately for him, the doctor was master of almost every other
science but that by which he was to get his bread; the consequence
of
which was, that the doctor at the age of forty had no bread to
eat.Such
a person as this was certain to find a welcome at Mr Allworthy’s
table, to whom misfortunes were ever a recommendation, when they
were
derived from the folly or villany of others, and not of the
unfortunate person himself. Besides this negative merit, the doctor
had one positive recommendation;—this was a great appearance of
religion. Whether his religion was real, or consisted only in
appearance, I shall not presume to say, as I am not possessed of
any
touchstone which can distinguish the true from the false.If
this part of his character pleased Mr Allworthy, it delighted Miss
Bridget. She engaged him in many religious controversies; on which
occasions she constantly expressed great satisfaction in the
doctor’s
knowledge, and not much less in the compliments which he frequently
bestowed on her own. To say the truth, she had read much English
divinity, and had puzzled more than one of the neighbouring
curates.
Indeed, her conversation was so pure, her looks so sage, and her
whole deportment so grave and solemn, that she seemed to deserve
the
name of saint equally with her namesake, or with any other female
in
the Roman kalendar.As
sympathies of all kinds are apt to beget love, so experience
teaches
us that none have a more direct tendency this way than those of a
religious kind between persons of different sexes. The doctor found
himself so agreeable to Miss Bridget, that he now began to lament
an
unfortunate accident which had happened to him about ten years
before; namely, his marriage with another woman, who was not only
still alive, but, what was worse, known to be so by Mr Allworthy.
This was a fatal bar to that happiness which he otherwise saw
sufficient probability of obtaining with this young lady; for as to
criminal indulgences, he certainly never thought of them. This was
owing either to his religion, as is most probable, or to the purity
of his passion, which was fixed on those things which matrimony
only,
and not criminal correspondence, could put him in possession of, or
could give him any title to.He
had not long ruminated on these matters, before it occurred to his
memory that he had a brother who was under no such unhappy
incapacity. This brother he made no doubt would succeed; for he
discerned, as he thought, an inclination to marriage in the lady;
and
the reader perhaps, when he hears the brother’s qualifications,
will not blame the confidence which he entertained of his
success.This
gentleman was about thirty-five years of age. He was of a middle
size, and what is called well-built. He had a scar on his forehead,
which did not so much injure his beauty as it denoted his valour
(for
he was a half-pay officer). He had good teeth, and something
affable,
when he pleased, in his smile; though naturally his countenance, as
well as his air and voice, had much of roughness in it: yet he
could
at any time deposit this, and appear all gentleness and
good-humour.
He was not ungenteel, nor entirely devoid of wit, and in his youth
had abounded in sprightliness, which, though he had lately put on a
more serious character, he could, when he pleased, resume.He
had, as well as the doctor, an academic education; for his father
had, with the same paternal authority we have mentioned before,
decreed him for holy orders; but as the old gentleman died before
he
was ordained, he chose the church military, and preferred the
king’s
commission to the bishop’s.He
had purchased the post of lieutenant of dragoons, and afterwards
came
to be a captain; but having quarrelled with his colonel, was by his
interest obliged to sell; from which time he had entirely
rusticated
himself, had betaken himself to studying the Scriptures, and was
not
a little suspected of an inclination to methodism.It
seemed, therefore, not unlikely that such a person should succeed
with a lady of so saint-like a disposition, and whose inclinations
were no otherwise engaged than to the marriage state in general;
but
why the doctor, who certainly had no great friendship for his
brother, should for his sake think of making so ill a return to the
hospitality of Allworthy, is a matter not so easy to be accounted
for.Is
it that some natures delight in evil, as others are thought to
delight in virtue? Or is there a pleasure in being accessory to a
theft when we cannot commit it ourselves? Or lastly (which
experience
seems to make probable), have we a satisfaction in aggrandizing our
families, even though we have not the least love or respect for
them?Whether
any of these motives operated on the doctor, we will not determine;
but so the fact was. He sent for his brother, and easily found
means
to introduce him at Allworthy’s as a person who intended only a
short visit to himself.The
captain had not been in the house a week before the doctor had
reason
to felicitate himself on his discernment. The captain was indeed as
great a master of the art of love as Ovid was formerly. He had
besides received proper hints from his brother, which he failed not
to improve to the best advantage.Chapter
xi. — Containing many rules, and some examples, concerning falling
in love: descriptions of beauty, and other more prudential
inducements to matrimony.
