him, in which he easily prevailed, as the other, though he made some
efforts for the purpose, did not seem very violently bent on
success. However, when the captain was departed, the squire sent
many curses and some menaces after him; but as these did not set out
from his lips till the officer was at the bottom of the stairs, and
grew louder and louder as he was more and more remote, they did not
reach his ears, or at least did not retard his departure.
Poor Sophia, however, who, in her prison, heard all her father's
outcries from first to last, began now first to thunder with her foot,
and afterwards to scream as loudly as the gentleman himself had done
before, though in a much sweeter voice. These screams soon silenced
the squire, and turned all his consideration towards his daughter,
whom he loved so tenderly, that the least apprehension of any harm
happening to her, threw him presently into agonies; for, except in
that single instance in which the whole future happiness of her life
was concerned, she was sovereign mistress of his inclinations.
Having ended his rage against the captain, with swearing he would
take the law of him, the squire now mounted upstairs to Sophia,
whom, as soon as he had unlocked and opened the door, he found all
pale and breathless. The moment, however, that she saw her father, she
collected all her spirits, and, catching him hold by the hand, she
cryed passionately, "O my dear sir, I am almost frightened to death! I
hope to heaven no harm hath happened to you." "No, no," cries the
squire, "no great harm. The rascal hath not hurt me much, but rat me
if I don't ha the la o' un." "Pray, dear sir," says she, "tell me
what's the matter; who is it that hath insulted you?" "I don't know
the name o' un," answered Western; "some officer fellow, I suppose,
that we are to pay for beating us; but I'll make him pay this bout, if
the rascal hath got anything, which I suppose he hath not. For thof he
was drest out so vine, I question whether he had got a voot of land in
the world." "But, dear sir," cries she, "what was the occasion of your
quarrel?" "What should it be, Sophy," answered the squire, "but
about you, Sophy? All my misfortunes are about you; you will be the
death of your poor father at last. Here's a varlet of a lord, the Lord
knows who, forsooth! who hath a taan a liking to you, and because I
would not gi un my consent, he sent me a kallenge. Come, do be a
good girl, Sophy, and put an end to all your father's troubles;
come, do consent to ha un; he will be in town within this day or
two; do but promise me to marry un as soon as he comes, and you will
make me the happiest man in the world, and I will make you the
happiest woman; you shall have the finest cloaths in London, and the
finest jewels, and a coach and six at your command. I promised
Allworthy already to give up half my estate- od rabbet it! I should
hardly stick at giving up the whole." "Will my papa be so kind,"
says she, "as to hear me speak?"- "Why wout ask, Sophy?" cries he,
"when dost know I had rather hear thy voice than the musick of the
best pack of dogs in England.- Hear thee, my dear litle girl! I hope
I shall hear thee as long as I live; for if I was ever to lose that
pleasure, I would not gee a brass varden to live a moment longer.
Indeed, Sophy, you do not know how I love you, indeed you don't, or
you never could have run away and left your poor father, who hath no
other joy, no other comfort upon earth, but his little Sophy." At
these words the tears stood in his eyes; and Sophia (with the tears
streaming from hers) answered, "Indeed, my dear papa, I know you
have loved me tenderly, and heaven is my witness how sincerely I
have returned your affection; nor could anything but an apprehension
of being forced into the arms of this man have driven me to run from a
father whom I love so passionately, that I would, with pleasure,
sacrifice my life to his happiness; nay, I have endeavoured to
reason myself into doing more, and had almost worked up a resolution
to endure the most miserable of all lives, to comply with your
inclination. It was that resolution alone to which I could not force
my mind; nor can I ever." Here the squire began to look wild, and
the foam appeared at his lips, which Sophia observing, begged to be
heard out, and then proceeded: "If my father's life, his health, or
any real happiness of his was at stake, here stands your resolved
daughter; may heaven blast me if there is a misery I would not
suffer to preserve you!- No, that most detested, most loathsome of
all lots would I embrace. I would give my hand to Blifil for your
sake."- "I tell thee, it will preserve me," answers the father; "it
will give me health, happiness, life, everything.- Upon my soul I
shall die if dost refuse me; I shall break my heart, I shall, upon my
soul."- "Is it possible," says she, "you can have such a desire to
make me miserable?"- "I tell thee noa," answered he loudly, "d--n me
if there is a thing upon earth I would not do to see thee happy."-
"And will not my dear papa allow me to have the least knowledge of
what will make me so? If it be true that happiness consists in
opinion, what must be my condition, when I shall think myself the most
miserable of all the wretches upon earth?" "Better think yourself so,"
said he, "than know it by being married to a poor bastardly vagabond."
"If it will content you, sir," said Sophia, "I will give you the most
solemn promise never to marry him, nor any other, while my papa lives,
without his consent. Let me dedicate my whole life to your service;
let me be again your poor Sophy, and my whole business and pleasure
be, as it hath been, to please and divert you." "Lookee, Sophy,"
answered the squire, "I am not to be choused in this manner. Your aunt
Western would then have reason to think me the fool she doth. No,
no, Sophy, I'd have you to know I have a got more wisdom, and know
more of the world, than to take the word of a woman in a matter
where a man is concerned." "How, sir, have I deserved this want of
confidence?" said she; "have I ever broke a single promise to you?
or have I ever been found guilty of a falsehood from my cradle?"
"Lookee, Sophy," cries he; "that's neither here nor there. I am
determined upon this match, and have him you shall, d--n me if shat
unt. D--n me if shat unt, though dost hang thyself the next morning."
At repeating which words he clinched his fist, knit his brows, bit his
lips, and thundered so loud, that the poor afflicted, terrified Sophia
sunk trembling into her chair, and, had not a flood of tears come
immediately to her relief, perhaps worse had followed.
Western beheld the deplorable condition of his daughter with no more
contrition or remorse than the turnkey of Newgate feels at viewing the
agonies of a tender wife, when taking her last farewell of her
condemned husband; or rather he looked down on her with the same
emotions which arise in an honest fair tradesman, who sees his
debtor dragged to prison for L10, which, though a just debt, the
wretch is wickedly unable to pay. Or, to hit the case still more
nearly, he felt the same compunction with a bawd, when some poor
innocent, whom she hath ensnared into her hands, falls into fits at
the first proposal of what is called seeing company. Indeed this
resemblance would be exact, was it not that the bawd hath an
interest in what she doth, and the father, though perhaps he may
blindly think otherwise, can, in reality, have none in urging his
daughter to almost an equal prostitution.
In this condition he left his poor Sophia, and, departing with a
very vulgar observation on the effect of tears, he locked the room,
and returned to the parson, who said everything he durst in behalf
of the young lady, which, though perhaps it was not quite so much as
his duty required, yet was it sufficient to throw the squire into a
violent rage, and into many indecent reflections on the whole body
of the clergy, which we have too great an honour for that sacred
function to commit to paper.
Chapter 3
What happened to Sophia during her confinement
The landlady of the house where the squire lodged had begun very
early to entertain a strange opinion of her guests. However, as she
was informed that the squire was a man of vast fortune, and as she had
taken care to exact a very extraordinary price for her rooms, she
did not think proper to give any offence; for, though she was not
without some concern for the confinement of poor Sophia, of whose
great sweetness of temper and affability the maid of the house had
made so favourable a report, which was confirmed by all the squire's
servants, yet she had much more concern for her own interest, than
to provoke one, whom, as she said, she perceived to be a very
hastish kind of a gentleman.
Though Sophia cat but little, yet she was regularly served with
her meals; indeed, I believe, if she had liked any one rarity, that
the squire, however angry, would have spared neither pains nor cost to
have procured it for her; since, however strange it may appear to some
of my readers, he really doated on his daughter, and to give her any
kind of pleasure was the highest satisfaction of his life.
The dinner-hour being arrived, Black George carried her up a pullet,
the squire himself (for he had sworn not to part with the key)
attending the door. As George deposited the dish, some compliments
passed between him and Sophia (for he had not seen her since she
left the country, and she treated every servant with more respect than
some persons shew to those who are in a very slight degree their
inferiors). Sophia would have had him take the pullet back, saying,
she could not eat; but George begged her to try, and particularly
recommended to her the eggs, of which he said it was full.
All this time the squire was waiting at the door; but George was a
great favourite with his master, as his employment was in concerns
of the highest nature, namely, about the game, and was accustomed to
take many liberties. He had officiously carried up the dinner,
being, as he said, very desirous to see his young lady; he made
therefore no scruple of keeping his master standing above ten minutes,
while civilities were passing between him and Sophia, for which he
received only a good-humoured rebuke at the door when he returned.
The eggs of pullets, partridges, pheasants, &c., were, as George
well knew, the most favourite dainties of Sophia. It was therefore
no wonder that he, who was a very good-natured fellow, should take
care to supply her with this kind of delicacy, at a time when all
the servants in the house were afraid she would be starved; for she
had scarce swallowed a single morsel in the last forty hours.
Though vexation hath not the same effect on all persons as it
usually hath on a widow, whose appetite it often renders sharper
than it can be rendered by the air on Bansted Downs, or Salisbury
Plain; yet the sublimest grief, notwithstanding what some people may
say to the contrary, will eat at last. And Sophia, herself, after some
little consideration, began to dissect the fowl, which she found to be
as full of eggs as George had reported it.
But, if she was pleased with these, it contained something which
would have delighted the Royal Society much more; for if a fowl with
three legs be so invaluable a curiosity, when perhaps time hath
produced a thousand such, at what price shall we esteem a bird which
so totally contradicts all the laws of animal oecconomy, as to contain
a letter in its belly? Ovid tells us of a flower into which Hyacinthus
was metamorphosed, that bears letters on its leaves, which Virgil
recommended as a miracle to the Royal Society of his day; but no age
nor nation hath ever recorded a bird with a letter in its maw.
But though a miracle of this kind might have engaged all the
Academies des Sciences in Europe, and perhaps in a fruitless
inquiry; yet the reader, by barely recollecting the last dialogue
which passed between Messieurs Jones and Partridge, will be very
easily satisfied from whence this letter came, and how it found its
passage into the fowl.
Sophia, notwithstanding her long fast, and notwithstanding her
favourite dish was there before her, no sooner saw the letter than she
immediately snatched it up, tore it open, and read as follows:-
MADAM,
Was I not sensible to whom I have the honour of writing, I should
endeavour, however difficult, to paint the horrors of my mind at the
account brought me by Mrs. Honour; but as tenderness alone can have
any true idea of the pangs which tenderness is capable of feeling,
so can this most amiable quality, which my Sophia possesses in the
most eminent degree, sufficiently inform her what her Jones must
have suffered on this melancholy occasion. Is there a circumstance
in the world which can heighten my agonies, when I hear of any
misfortune which hath befallen you? Surely there is one only, and with
that I am accursed. It is, my Sophia, the dreadful consideration
that I am myself the wretched cause. Perhaps I here do myself too much
honour, but none will envy me an honour which costs me so extremely
dear. Pardon me this presumption, and pardon me a greater still, if
I ask you, whether my advice, my assistance, my presence, my
absence, my death, or my tortures can bring you any relief? Can the
most Perfect admiration, the most watchful observance, the most ardent
love, the most melting tenderness, the most resigned submission to
your will, make you amends for what you are to sacrifice to my
happiness? If they can, fly, my lovely angel, to those arms which
are ever open to receive and protect you; and to which, whether you
