is indeed a most accomplished young lady; sings admirably well, and
hath a most delicate hand at the harpsichord." "I did not know any
of these matters," answered the old gentleman, "for I never saw the
lady: but I do not like her the worse for what you tell me; and I am
the better pleased with her father for not laying any stress on
these qualifications in our bargain. I shall always think it a proof
of his understanding. A silly fellow would have brought in these
articles as an addition to her fortune; but, to give him his due, he
never mentioned any such matter; though to be sure they are no
disparagements to a woman." "I do assure you, sir," cries Jones,
"she hath them all in the most eminent degree: for my part, I own I
was afraid you might have been a little backward, a little less
inclined to the match; for your son told me you had never seen the
lady; therefore I came, sir, in that case, to entreat you, to
conjure you, as you value the happiness of your son, not to be
averse to his match with a woman who hath not only all the good
qualities I have mentioned, but many more."- "If that was your
business, sir," said the old gentleman, "we are both obliged to you;
and you may be perfectly easy; for I give you my word I was very
well satisfied with her fortune." "Sir," answered Jones, "I honour you
every moment more and more. To be so easily satisfied, so very
moderate on that account, is a proof of the soundness of your
understanding, as well as the nobleness of your mind."--"Not so very
moderate, young gentleman, not so very moderate," answered the
father.-- "Still more and more noble," replied Jones; "and give me
leave to add, sensible: for sure it is little less than madness to
consider money as the sole foundation of happiness. Such a woman as
this with her little, her nothing of a fortune"- "I find," cries the
old gentleman, "you have a pretty just opinion of money, my friend, or
else you are better acquainted with the person of the lady than with
her circumstances. Why, pray, what fortune do you imagine this lady to
have?" "What fortune?" cries Jones, "why, too contemptible a one to be
named for your son."- "Well, well, well," said the other, "perhaps he
might have done better."- "That I deny," said Jones, "for she is one
of the best of women."- "Ay, ay, but in point of fortune I mean,"
answered the other. "And yet, as to that now, how much do you imagine
your friend is to have?"- "How much?" cries Jones, "how much? Why, at
the utmost, perhaps L200." "Do you mean to banter me, young
gentleman?" said the father, a little angry. "No, upon my soul,"
answered Jones, "I am in earnest: nay, I believe I have gone to the
utmost farthing. If I do the lady an injury, I ask her pardon."
"Indeed you do," cries the father; "I am certain she hath fifty times
that sum, and she shall produce fifty to that before I consent that
she shall marry my son." "Nay," said Jones, "it is too late to talk of
consent now; if she had not fifty farthings, your son is married."-
"My son married!" answered the old gentleman, with surprize. "Nay,"
said Jones, "I thought you was unacquainted with it." "My son married
to Miss Harris!" answered he again. "To Miss Harris!" said Jones; "no,
sir; to Miss Nancy Miller, the daughter of Mrs Miller, at whose house
he lodged; a young lady, who, though her mother is reduced to let
lodgings-"- "Are you bantering, or are you in earnest?" cries the
father, with a most solemn voice. "Indeed, sir," answered Jones, "I
scorn the character of a banterer. I came to you in most serious
earnest, imagining, as I find true, that your son had never dared to
acquaint you with a match so much inferior to him in point of fortune,
though the reputation of the lady will suffer it no longer to remain a
secret."
While the father stood like one struck suddenly dumb at this news, a
gentleman came into the room, and saluted him by the name of brother.
But though these two were in consanguinity so nearly related, they
were in their dispositions almost the opposites to each other. The
brother who now arrived had likewise been bred to trade, in which he
no sooner saw himself worth L6000 than he purchased a small estate
with the greatest part of it, and retired into the country; where he
married the daughter of an unbeneficed clergyman; a young lady, who,
though she had neither beauty nor fortune, had recommended herself
to his choice entirely by her good humour, of which she possessed a
very large share.
With this woman he had, during twenty-five years, lived a life
more resembling the model which certain poets ascribe to the golden
age, than any of those patterns which are furnished by the present
times. By her he had four children, but none of them arrived at
maturity, except only one daughter, whom, in vulgar language, he and
his wife had spoiled; that is, had educated with the utmost tenderness
and fondness, which she returned to such a degree, that she had
actually refused a very extraordinary match with a gentleman a
little turned of forty, because she could not bring herself to part
with her parents.
The young lady whom Mr. Nightingale had intended for his son was a
near neighbour of his brother, and an acquaintance of his niece; and
in reality it was upon the account of his projected match, that he was
now come to town; not, indeed, to forward, but to dissuade his brother
from a purpose which he conceived would inevitably ruin his nephew;
for he foresaw no other event from a union with Miss Harris,
notwithstanding the largeness of her fortune, as neither her person
nor mind seemed to promise any kind of matrimonial felicity: for she
was very tall, very thin, very ugly, very affected, very silly, and
very ill-natured.
His brother, therefore, no sooner mentioned the marriage of his
nephew with Miss Miller, than he exprest the utmost satisfaction;
and when the father had very bitterly reviled his son, and
pronounced sentence of beggary upon him, the uncle began in the
following manner:
"If you was a little cooler, brother, I would ask you whether you
love your son for his sake or for your own. You would answer, I
suppose, and so I suppose you think, for his sake; and doubtless it is
his happiness which you intended in the marriage you proposed for him.
"Now, brother, to prescribe rules of happiness to others hath always
appeared to me very absurd, and to insist on doing this, very
tyrannical. It is a vulgar error, I know; but it is, nevertheless,
an error. And if this be absurd in other things, it is mostly so in
the affair of marriage, the happiness of which depends intirely on the
affection which subsists between the parties.
"I have therefore always thought it unreasonable in parents to
desire to chuse for their children on this occasion; since to force
affection is an impossible attempt; nay, so much doth love abhor
force, that I know not whether, through an unfortunate but uncurable
perverseness in our natures, it may not be even impatient of
persuasion.
"It is, however, true that, though a parent will not, I think,
wisely prescribe, he ought to be consulted on this occasion; and, in
strictness, perhaps, should at least have a negative voice. My nephew,
therefore, I own, in marrying, without asking your advice, hath been
guilty of a fault. But, honestly speaking, brother, have you not a
little promoted this fault? Have not your frequent declarations on
this subject given him a moral certainty of your refusal, where
there was any deficiency in point of fortune? Nay, doth not your
present anger arise solely from that deficiency? And if he hath failed
in his duty here, did you not as much exceed that authority, when
you absolutely bargained with him for a woman, without his
knowledge, whom you yourself never saw, and whom, if you had seen
and known as well as I, it must have been madness in you to have
ever thought of bringing her into your family?
"Still I own my nephew in a fault; but surely it is not an
unpardonable fault. He hath acted indeed without your consent, in a
matter in which he ought to have asked it, but it is in a matter in
which his interest is principally concerned; you yourself must and
will acknowledge, that you consulted his interest only, and if he
unfortunately differed from you, and hath been mistaken in his
notion of happiness, will you, brother, if you love your son, carry
him still wider from the point? Will you increase the ill consequences
of his simple choice? Will you endeavour to make an event certain
misery to him, which may accidentally prove so? In a word, brother,
because he hath put it out of your power to make his circumstances
as affluent as you would, will you distress them as much as you can?"
By the force of the true Catholic faith, St. Anthony won upon the
fishes. Orpheus and Amphion went a little farther, and by the charms
of music enchanted things merely inanimate. Wonderful, both! but
neither history nor fable have ever yet ventured to record an instance
of any one, who, by force of argument and reason, hath triumphed
over habitual avarice.
Mr. Nightingale, the father, instead of attempting to answer his
brother, contented himself with only observing, that they had always
differed in their sentiments concerning the education of their
children. "I wish," said he, "brother, you would have confined your
care to your own daughter, and never have troubled yourself with my
son, who hath, I believe, as little profited by your precepts, as by
your example." For young Nightingale was his uncle's godson, and had
lived more with him than with his father. So that the uncle had
often declared, he loved his nephew almost equally with his own child.
Jones fell into raptures with this good gentleman; and when, after
much persuasion, they found the father grew still more and more
irritated, instead of appeased, Jones conducted the uncle to his
nephew at the house of Mrs. Miller.
Chapter 9
Containing strange matters
At his return to his lodgings, Jones found the situation of
affairs greatly altered from what they had been in at his departure.
The mother, the two daughters, and young Mr. Nightingale, were now sat
down to supper together, when the uncle was, at his own desire,
introduced without any ceremony into the company, to all of whom he
was well known; for he had several times visited his nephew at that
house.
The old gentleman immediately walked up to Miss Nancy, saluted and
wished her joy, as he did afterwards the mother and the other
sister; and lastly, he paid the proper compliments to his nephew, with
the same good humour and courtesy, as if his nephew had married his
equal or superior in fortune, with all the previous requisites first
performed.
Miss Nancy and her supposed husband both turned pale, and looked
rather foolish than otherwise upon this occasion; but Mrs. Miller took
the first opportunity of withdrawing; and, having sent for Jones
into the dining-room, she threw herself at his feet, and in a most
passionate flood of tears, called him her good angel, the preserver of
her poor little family, with many other respectful and endearing
appellations, and made him every acknowledgment which the highest
benefit can extract from the most grateful heart.
After the first gust of her passion was a little over, which she
declared, if she had not vented, would have burst her, she proceeded
to inform Mr. Jones that all matters were settled between Mr.
Nightingale and her daughter, and that they were to be married the
next morning; at which Mr. Jones having expressed much pleasure, the
poor woman fell again into a fit of joy and thanksgiving, which he
at length with difficulty silenced, and prevailed on her to return
with him back to the company, whom they found in the same good
humour in which they had left them.
This little society now past two or three very agreeable hours
together, in which the uncle, who was a very great lover of his
bottle, had so well plyed his nephew, that this latter, though not
drunk, began to be somewhat flustered; and now Mr. Nightingale, taking
the old gentleman with him upstairs into the apartment he had lately
occupied, unbosomed himself as follows:-
"As you have been always the best and kindest of uncles to me, and
as you have shown such unparalleled goodness in forgiving this
match, which to be sure may be thought a little improvident, I
should never forgive myself if I attempted to deceive you in
anything." He then confessed the truth, and opened the whole affair.
"How, Jack?" said the old gentleman, "and are you really then not
married to this young woman?" "No, upon my honour," answered
Nightingale, "I have told you the simple truth." "My dear boy,"
cries the uncle, kissing him, "I am heartily glad to hear it. I
never was better pleased in my life. If you had been married, I should
have assisted you as much as was in my power to have made the best
of a bad matter; but there is a great difference between considering a
thing which is already done and irrecoverable, and that which is yet
to do. Let your reason have fair play, Jack, and you will see this
match in so foolish and preposterous a light, that there will be no
need of any dissuasive arguments." "How, sir?" replies young
Nightingale, "is there this difference between having already done
an act, and being in honour engaged to do it?" "Pugh!" said the uncle,
"honour is a creature of the world's making, and the world hath the
power of a creator over it, and may govern and direct it as they
