inexpressible tenderness.
Jones received this full in his eyes, and it had infinitely a
stronger effect on him than all the contusions which he had received
before. An effect, however, widely different; for so soft and balmy
was it, that, had all his former blows been stabs, it would for some
minutes have prevented his feeling their smart.
The company now moved backwards, and soon arrived where Thwackum had
got Mr. Blifil again on his legs. Here we cannot suppress a pious
wish, that all quarrels were to be decided by those weapons only
with which Nature, knowing what is proper for us, hath supplied us;
and that cold iron was to be used in digging no bowels but those of
the earth. Then would war, the pastime of monarchs, be almost
inoffensive, and battles between great armies might be fought at the
particular desire of several ladies of quality; who, together with the
kings themselves, might be actual spectators of the conflict. Then
might the field be this moment well strewed with human carcasses,
and the next, the dead men, or infinitely the greatest part of them,
might get up, like Mr. Bayes's troops, and march off either at the
sound of a drum or fiddle, as should be previously agreed on.
I would avoid, if possible, treating this matter ludicrously, lest
grave men and politicians, whom I know to be offended at a jest, may
cry pish at it; but, in reality, might not a battle be as well decided
by the greater number of broken heads, bloody noses, and black eyes,
as by the greater heaps of mangled and murdered human bodies? Might
not towns be contended for in the same manner? Indeed, this may be
thought too detrimental a scheme to the French interest, since they
would thus lose the advantage they have over other nations in the
superiority of their engineers; but when I consider the gallantry
and generosity of that people, I am persuaded they would never decline
putting themselves upon a par with their adversary; or, as the
phrase is, making themselves his match.
But such reformations are rather to be wished than hoped for: I
shall content myself, therefore, with this short hint, and return to
my narrative.
Western began now to inquire into the original rise of this quarrel.
To which neither Blifil nor Jones gave any answer; but Thwackum said
surlily, "I believe the cause is not far off; if you beat the bushes
well you may find her."- "Find her?" replied Western: "what! have you
been fighting for a wench?"- "Ask the gentleman in his waistcoat
there," said Thwackum: "he best knows." "Nay then," cries Western, "it
is a wench certainly.- Ah, Tom, Tom, thou art a liquorish dog. But
come, gentlemen, be all friends, and go home with me, and make final
peace over a bottle." "I ask your pardon, sir," says Thwackum: "it
is no such slight matter for a man of my character to be thus
injuriously treated, and buffeted by a boy, only because I would
have done my duty, in endeavouring to detect and bring to justice a
wanton harlot; but, indeed, the principal fault lies in Mr.
Allworthy and yourself; for if you put the laws in execution, as you
ought to do, you will soon rid the country of these vermin."
"I would as soon rid the country of foxes," cries Western. "I
think we ought to encourage the recruiting those numbers which we
are every day losing in the war.- But where is she? Prithee, Tom,
show me." He then began to beat about, in the same language and in the
same manner as if he had been beating for a hare; and at last cried
out, "Soho! Puss is not far off. Here's her form, upon my soul; I
believe I may cry stole away." And indeed so he might; for he had
now discovered the place whence the poor girl had, at the beginning of
the fray, stolen away, upon as many feet as a hare generally uses in
travelling.
Sophia now desired her father to return home; saying she found
herself very faint, and apprehended a relapse. The squire
immediately complied with his daughter's request (for he was the
fondest of parents). He earnestly endeavoured to prevail with the
whole company to go and sup with him: but Blifil and Thwackum
absolutely refused; the former saying, there were more reasons than he
could then mention, why he must decline this honour; and the latter
declaring (perhaps rightly) that it was not proper for a person of his
function to be seen at any place in his present condition.
Jones was incapable of refusing the pleasure of being with his
Sophia; so on he marched with Squire Western and his ladies, the
parson bringing up the rear. This had, indeed, offered to tarry with
his brother Thwackum, professing his regard for the cloth would not
permit him to depart; but Thwackum would not accept the favour, and,
with no great civility, pushed him after Mr. Western.
Thus ended this bloody fray; and thus shall end the fifth book of
this history.
BOOK VI
CONTAINING ABOUT THREE WEEKS
Chapter 1
Of love
In our last book we have been obliged to deal pretty much with the
passion of love; and in our succeeding book shall be forced to
handle this subject still more largely. It may not therefore in this
place be improper to apply ourselves to the examination of that modern
doctrine, by which certain philosophers, among many other wonderful
discoveries, pretend to have found out, that there is no such
passion in the human breast.
Whether these philosophers be the same with that surprising sect,
who are honourably mentioned by the late Dr. Swift, as having, by
the mere force of genius alone, without the least assistance of any
kind of learning, or even reading, discovered that profound and
invaluable secret that there is no God; or whether they are not rather
the same with those who some years since very much alarmed the
world, by showing that there were no such things as virtue or goodness
really existing in human nature, and who deduced our best actions from
pride, I will not here presume to determine. In reality, I am inclined
to suspect, that all these several finders of truth, are the very
identical men who are by others called the finders of gold. The method
used in both these searches after truth and after gold, being indeed
one and the same, viz., the searching, rummaging, and examining into a
nasty place; indeed, in the former instances, into the nastiest of all
places, A BAD MIND.
But though in this particular, and perhaps in their success, the
truth-finder and the gold-finder may very properly be compared
together; yet in modesty, surely, there can be no comparison between
the two; for who ever heard of a gold-finder that had the impudence or
folly to assert, from the ill success of his search, that there was no
such thing as gold in the world? whereas the truth-finder, having
raked out that jakes, his own mind, and being there capable of tracing
no ray of divinity, nor anything virtuous or good, or lovely, or
loving, very fairly, honestly, and logically concludes that no such
things exist in the whole creation.
To avoid, however, all contention, if possible, with these
philosophers, if they will be called so; and to show our own
disposition to accommodate matters peaceably between us, we shall here
make them some concessions, which may possibly put an end to the
dispute.
First, we will grant that many minds, and perhaps those of the
philosophers, are entirely free from the least traces of such a
passion.
Secondly, that what is commonly called love, namely, the desire of
satisfying a voracious appetite with a certain quantity of delicate
white human flesh, is by no means that passion for which I here
contend. This is indeed more properly hunger; and as no glutton is
ashamed to apply the word love to his appetite, and to say he LOVES
such and such dishes; so may the lover of this kind, with equal
propriety, say, he HUNGERS after such and such women.
Thirdly, I will grant, which I believe will be a most acceptable
concession, that this love for which I am an advocate, though it
satisfies itself in a much more delicate manner, doth nevertheless
seek its own satisfaction as much as the grossest of all our
appetites.
And, lastly, that this love, when it operates towards one of a
different sex, is very apt, towards its complete gratification, to
call in the aid of that hunger which I have mentioned above; and which
it is so far from abating, that it heightens all its delights to a
degree scarce imaginable by those who have never been susceptible of
any other emotions than what have proceeded from appetite alone.
In return to all these concessions, I desire of the philosophers
to grant, that there is in some (I believe in many) human breasts a
kind and benevolent disposition, which is gratified by contributing to
the happiness of others. That in this gratification alone, as in
friendship, in parental and filial affection, as indeed in general
philanthropy, there is a great and exquisite delight. That if we
will not call such disposition love, we have no name for it. That
though the pleasures arising from such pure love may be heightened and
sweetened by the assistance of amorous desires, yet the former can
subsist alone, nor are they destroyed by the intervention of the
latter. Lastly, that esteem and gratitude are the proper motives to
love, as youth and beauty are to desire, and, therefore, though such
desire may naturally cease, when age or sickness overtakes its object;
yet these can have no effect on love, nor ever shake or remove, from a
good mind, that sensation or passion which hath gratitude and esteem
for its basis.
To deny the existence of a passion of which we often see manifest
instances, seems to be very strange and absurd; and can indeed proceed
only from that self-admonition which we have mentioned above: but
how unfair is this! Doth the man who recognizes in his own heart no
traces of avarice or ambition, conclude, therefore, that there are
no such passions in human nature? Why will we not modestly observe the
same rule in judging of the good, as well as the evil of others? Or
why, in any case, will we, as Shakespear phrases it, "put the world in
our own person?"
Predominant vanity is, I am afraid, too much concerned here. This is
one instance of that adulation which we bestow on our own minds, and
this almost universally. For there is scarce any man, how much
soever he may despise the character of a flatterer, but will
condescend in the meanest manner to flatter himself.
To those therefore I apply for the truth of the above
observations, whose own minds can bear testimony to what I have
advanced.
Examine your heart, my good reader, and resolve whether you do
believe these matters with me. If you do, you may now proceed to their
exemplification in the following pages: if you do not, you have, I
assure you, already read more than you have understood; and it would
be wiser to pursue your business, or your pleasures (such as they
are), than to throw away any more of your time in reading what you can
neither taste nor comprehend. To treat of the effects of love to
you, must be as absurd as to discourse on colours to a man born blind;
since possibly your idea of love may be as absurd as that which we are
told such blind man once entertained of the colour scarlet; that
colour seemed to him to be very much like the sound of a trumpet:
and love probably may, in your opinion, very greatly resemble a dish
of soup, or a surloin of roast-beef.
Chapter 2
The character of Mrs. Western. Her great learning and knowledge of
the world, and an instance of the deep penetration which she derived
from those advantages
The reader hath seen Mr. Western, his sister, and daughter, with
young Jones, and the parson, going together to Mr. Western's house,
where the greater part of the company spent the evening with much
joy and festivity. Sophia was indeed the only grave person; for as
to Jones, though love had now gotten entire possession of his heart,
yet the pleasing reflection on Mr. Allworthy's recovery, and the
presence of his mistress, joined to some tender looks which she now
and then could not refrain from giving him, so elevated our heroe,
that he joined the mirth of the other three, who were perhaps as
good-humoured people as any in the world.
Sophia retained the same gravity of countenance the next morning
at breakfast; whence she retired likewise earlier than usual,
leaving her father and aunt together. The squire took no notice of
this change in his daughter's disposition. To say the truth, though he
was somewhat of a politician, and had been twice a candidate in the
country interest at an election, he was a man of no great observation.
His sister was a lady of a different turn. She had lived about the
court, and had seen the world. Hence she had acquired all that
knowledge which the said world usually communicates; and was a perfect
mistress of manners, customs, ceremonies, and fashions. Nor did her
erudition stop here. She had considerably improved her mind by
study; she had not only read all the modern plays, operas,
oratorios, poems, and romances- in all which she was a critic; but
had gone through Rapin's History of England, Eachard's Roman
History, and many French Memoires pour servir a l'Histoire: to these
she had added most of the political pamphlets and journals published
within the last twenty years. From which she had attained a very
competent skill in politics, and could discourse very learnedly on the
affairs of Europe. She was, moreover, excellently well skilled in
the doctrine of amour, and knew better than anybody who and who were
together; a knowledge which she the more easily attained, as her
pursuit of it was never diverted by any affairs of her own; for either
she had no inclinations, or they had never been solicited; which
last is indeed very probable; for her masculine person, which was near
