six foot high, added to her manner and learning, possibly prevented
the other sex from regarding her, notwithstanding her petticoats, in
the light of a woman. However, as she had considered the matter
scientifically, she perfectly well knew, though she had never
practised them, all the arts which fine ladies use when they desire to
give encouragement, or to conceal liking, with all the long
appendage of smiles, ogles, glances, &c., as they are at present
practised in the beau-monde. To sum the whole, no species of
disguise or affectation had escaped her notice; but as to the plain
simple workings of honest nature, as she had never seen any such,
she could know but little of them.
By means of this wonderful sagacity, Mrs. Western had now, as she
thought, made a discovery of something in the mind of Sophia. The
first hint of this she took from the behaviour of the young lady in
the field of battle; and the suspicion which she then conceived, was
greatly corroborated by some observations which she had made that
evening and the next morning. However, being greatly cautious to avoid
being found in a mistake, she carried the secret a whole fortnight
in her bosom, giving only some oblique hints, by simpering, winks,
nods, and now and then dropping an obscure word, which indeed
sufficiently alarmed Sophia, but did not at all affect her brother.
Being at length, however, thoroughly satisfied of the truth of her
observation, she took an opportunity, one morning, when she was
alone with her brother, to interrupt one of his whistles in the
following manner:-
"Pray, brother, have you not observed something very extraordinary
in my niece lately?"- "No, not I," answered Western; "is anything the
matter with the girl?"- "I think there is," replied she; "and
something of much consequence too."- "Why, she doth not complain of
anything," cries Western; "and she hath had the small-pox."-
"Brother," returned she, "girls are liable to other distempers besides
the small-pox, and sometimes possibly to much worse." Here Western
interrupted her with much earnestness, and begged her, if anything
ailed his daughter, to acquaint him immediately; adding, "she knew he
loved her more than his own soul, and that he would send to the
world's end for the best physician to her." "Nay, nay," answered she,
smiling, "the distemper is not so terrible; but I believe, brother,
you are convinced I know the world, and I promise you I was never more
deceived in my life, if my niece be not most desperately in love."-
"How! in love!" cries Western, in a passion; "in love, without
acquainting me! I'll disinherit her; I'll turn her out of doors, stark
naked, without a farthing. Is all my kindness vor 'ur, and vondness
o'ur come to this, to fall in love without asking me leave?"- "But you
will not," answered Mrs. Western, "turn this daughter, whom you love
better than your own soul, out of doors, before you know whether you
shall approve her choice. Suppose she should have fixed on the very
person whom you yourself would wish, I hope you would not be angry
then?"- "No, no," cries Western, "that would make a difference. If she
marries the man I would ha' her, she may love whom she pleases, I
shan't trouble my head about that." "That is spoken," answered the
sister, "like a sensible man; but I believe the very person she hath
chosen would be the very person you would choose for her. I will
disclaim all knowledge of the world, if it is not so; and I believe,
brother, you will allow I have some."- "Why, lookee, sister," said
Western, "I do believe you have as much as any woman; and to be sure
those are women's matters. You know I don't love to hear you talk
about politics; they belong to us, and petticoats should not meddle:
but come, who is the man?"- "Marry!" said she, "you may find him out
yourself if you please. You, who are so great a politician, can be at
no great loss. The judgment which can penetrate into the cabinets of
princes, and discover the secret springs which move the great state
wheels in all the political machines of Europe, must surely, with very
little difficulty, find out what passes in the rude uninformed mind of
a girl."- "Sister," cries the squire, "I have often warn'd you not to
talk the court gibberish to me. I tell you, I don't understand the
lingo: but I can read a journal, or the London Evening Post. Perhaps,
indeed, there may be now and tan a verse which I can't make much of,
because half the letters are left out; yet I know very well what is
meant by that, and that our affairs don't go so well as they should
do, because of bribery and corruption."- "I pity your country
ignorance from my heart," cries the lady.- "Do you?" answered Western;
"and I pity your town learning; I had rather be anything than a
courtier, and a Presbyterian, and a Hanoverian too, as some people, I
believe, are."- "If you mean me," answered she, "you know I am a
woman, brother; and it signifies nothing what I am. Besides-" - "I do
know you are a woman," cries the squire, "and it's well for thee that
art one; if hadst been a man, I promise thee I had lent thee a flick
long ago."- "Ay, there," said she, "in that flick lies all your
fancied superiority. Your bodies, and not your brains, are stronger
than ours. Believe me, it is well for you that you are able to beat
us; or, such is the superiority of our understanding, we should make
all of you what the brave, and wise, and witty, and polite are
already- our slaves."- "I am glad I know your mind," answered the
squire. "But we'll talk more of this matter another time. At present,
do tell me what man is it you mean about my daughter?"- "Hold a
moment," said she, "while I digest that sovereign contempt I have for
your sex; or else I ought to be angry too with you. There-- I have
made a shift to gulp it down. And now, good politic sir, what think
you of Mr. Blifil? Did she not faint away on seeing him lie breathless
on the ground? Did she not, after he was recovered, turn pale again
the moment we came up to that part of the field where he stood? And
pray what else should be the occasion of all her melancholy that night
at supper, the next morning, and indeed ever since?"- "Fore George!"
cries the squire, "now you mind me on't, I remember it all. It is
certainly so, and I am glad on't with all my heart. I knew Sophy was a
good girl, and would not fall in love to make me angry. I was never
more rejoiced in my life; for nothing can lie so handy together as our
two estates. I had this matter in my head some time ago: for certainly
the two estates are in a manner joined together in matrimony already,
and it would be a thousand pities to part them. It is true, indeed,
there be larger estates in the kingdom, but not in this county, and I
had rather bate something, than marry my daughter among strangers and
foreigners. Besides, most o' zuch great estates be in the hands of
lords, and I heate the very name of themmun. Well but, sister, what
would you advise me to do; for I tell you women know these matters
better than we do?"- "Oh, your humble servant, sir," answered the
lady: "we are obliged to you for allowing us a capacity in anything.
Since you are pleased, then, most politic sir, to ask my advice, I
think you may propose the match to Allworthy yourself. There is no
indecorum in the proposal's coming from the parent of either side.
King Alcinous, in Mr. Pope's Odyssey, offers his daughter to Ulysses.
I need not caution so politic a person not to say that your daughter
is in love; that would indeed be against all rules." "Well," said the
squire, "I will propose it; but I shall certainly lend un a flick,
if he should refuse me." "Fear not," cries Mrs. Western; "the match is
too advantageous to be refused." "I don't know that," answered the
squire: "Allworthy is a queer b--ch, and money hath no effect o'un."
"Brother," said the lady, "your politics astonish me. Are you really
to be imposed on by professions? Do you think Mr. Allworthy hath
more contempt for money than other men because he professes more? Such
credulity would better become one of us weak women, than that wise sex
which heaven hath formed for politicians. Indeed, brother, you would
make a fine plenipo to negotiate with the French. They would soon
persuade you, that they take towns out of mere defensive
principles." "Sister," answered the squire, with much scorn, "let your
friends at court answer for the towns taken; as you are a woman, I
shall lay ho blame upon you; for I suppose they are wiser than to
trust women with secrets." He accompanied this with so sarcastical a
laugh, that Mrs. Western could bear no longer. She had been all this
time fretted in a tender part (for she was indeed very deeply
skilled in these matters, and very violent in them), and therefore,
burst forth in a rage, declared her brother to be both a clown and a
blockhead, and that she would stay no longer in his house.
The squire, though perhaps he had never read Machiavel, was,
however, in many points, a perfect politician. He strongly held all
those wise tenets, which are so well inculcated in that
Politico-Peripatetic school of Exchange-alley. He knew the just
value and only use of money, viz., to lay it up. He was likewise
well skilled in the exact value of reversions, expectations, &c.,
and had often considered the amount of his sister's fortune, and the
chance which he or his posterity had of inheriting it. This he was
infinitely too wise to sacrifice to a trifling resentment. When he
found, therefore, he had carried matters too far, he began to think of
reconciling them; which was no very difficult task, as the lady had
great affection for her brother, and still greater for her niece;
and though too susceptible of an affront offered to her skill in
politics, on which she much valued herself, was a woman of a very
extraordinary good and sweet disposition.
Having first, therefore, laid violent hands on the horses, for whose
escape from the stable no place but the window was left open, he
next applied himself to his sister; softened and soothed her, by
unsaying all he had said, and by assertions directly contrary to those
which had incensed her. Lastly, he summoned the eloquence of Sophia to
his assistance, who, besides a most graceful and winning address,
had the advantage of being heard with great favour and partiality by
her aunt.
The result of the whole was a kind smile from Mrs. Western, who
said, "Brother, you are absolutely a perfect Croat; but as those
have their use in the army of the empress queen, so you likewise
have some good in you. I will therefore once more sign a treaty of
peace with you, and see that you do not infringe it on your side; at
least, as you are so excellent a politician, I may expect you will
keep your leagues, like the French, till your interest calls upon
you to break them."
Chapter 3
Containing two defiances to the critics
The squire having settled matters with his sister, as we have seen
in the last chapter, was so greatly impatient to communicate the
proposal to Allworthy, that Mrs. Western had the utmost difficulty
to prevent him from visiting that gentleman in his sickness, for
this purpose.
Mr. Allworthy had been engaged to dine with Mr. Western at the
time when he was taken ill. He was therefore no sooner discharged
out of the custody of physic, but he thought (as was usual with him on
all occasions, both the highest and the lowest) of fulfilling his
engagement.
In the interval between the time of the dialogue in the last
chapter, and this day of public entertainment, Sophia had, from
certain obscure hints thrown out by her aunt, collected some
apprehension that the sagacious lady suspected her passion for
Jones. She now resolved to take this opportunity of wiping out all
such suspicions, and for that purpose to put an entire constraint on
her behaviour.
First, she endeavoured to conceal a throbbing melancholy heart
with the utmost sprightliness in her countenance, and the highest
gaiety in her manner. Secondly, she addressed her whole discourse to
Mr. Blifil, and took not the least notice of poor Jones the whole day.
The squire was so delighted with this conduct of his daughter,
that he scarce eat any dinner, and spent almost his whole time in
watching opportunities of conveying signs of his approbation by
winks and nods to his sister; who was not at first altogether so
pleased with what she saw as was her brother.
In short, Sophia so greatly overacted her part, that her aunt was at
first staggered, and began to suspect some affectation in her niece;
but as she was herself a woman of great art, so she soon attributed
this to extreme art in Sophia. She remembered the many hints she had
given her niece concerning her being in love, and imagined the young
lady had taken this way to rally her out of her opinion, by an
overacted civility: a notion that was greatly corroborated by the
excessive gaiety with which the whole was accompanied. We cannot
here avoid remarking, that this conjecture would have been better
founded had Sophia lived ten years in the air of Grosvenor Square,
where young ladies do learn a wonderful knack of rallying and
playing with that passion, which is a mighty serious thing in woods
and groves an hundred miles distant from London.
To say the truth, in discovering the deceit of others, it matters
much that our own art be wound up, if I may use the expression, in the
