produced, sometimes condescends to play the fool; so did Scipio the
Great, and Laelius the Wise, according to Horace, many years ago; nay,
Cicero reports them to have been "incredibly childish." These, it is
true, played the fool, like my friend Garrick, in jest only; but
several eminent characters have, in numberless instances of their
lives, played the fool egregiously in earnest; so far as to render
it a matter of some doubt whether their wisdom or folly was
predominant; or whether they were better intitled to the applause or
censure, the admiration or contempt, the love or hatred, of mankind.
Those persons, indeed, who have passed any time behind the scenes of
this great theatre, and are thoroughly acquainted not only with the
several disguises which are there put on, but also with the
fantastic and capricious behaviour of the Passions, who are the
managers and directors of this theatre (for as to Reason, the
patentee, he is known to be a very idle fellow and seldom to exert
himself), may most probably have learned to understand the famous
nil admirari of Horace, or in the English phrase, to stare at nothing.
A single bad act no more constitutes a villain in life, than a
single bad part on the stage. The passions, like the managers of a
playhouse, often force men upon parts without consulting their
judgment, and sometimes without any regard to their talents. Thus
the man, as well as the player, may condemn what he himself acts; nay,
it is common to see vice sit as awkwardly on some men, as the
character of Iago would on the honest face of Mr. William Mills.
Upon the whole, then, the man of candour and of true understanding
is never hasty to condemn. He can censure an imperfection, or even a
vice, without rage against the guilty party. In a word, they are the
same folly, the same childishness, the same ill-breeding, and the same
ill-nature, which raise all the clamours and uproars both in life
and on the stage. The worst of men generally have the words rogue
and villain most in their mouths, as the lowest of all wretches are
the aptest to cry out low in the pit.
Chapter 2
Containing a conversation which Mr. Jones had with himself
Jones received his effects from Mr. Allworthy's early in the
morning, with the following answer to his letter:-
SIR,-
I am commanded by my uncle to acquaint you, that as he did not
proceed to those measures he had taken with you, without the
greatest deliberation, and after the fullest evidence of your
unworthiness, so will it be always out of your power to cause the
least alteration in his resolution. He expresses great surprize at
your presumption in saying you have resigned all pretensions to a
young lady, to whom it is impossible you should ever have had any, her
birth and fortune having made her so infinitely your superior. Lastly,
I am commanded to tell you, that the only instance of your
compliance with my uncle's inclinations which he requires, is, your
immediately quitting this country. I cannot conclude this without
offering you my advice, as a Christian, that you would seriously think
of amending your life. That you may be assisted with grace so to do,
will be always the prayer of
Your humble servant,
W. BLIFIL
Many contending passions were raised in our heroe's mind by this
letter; but the tender prevailed at last over the indignant and
irascible, and a flood of tears came seasonably to his assistance, and
possibly prevented his misfortunes from either turning his head, or
bursting his heart.
He grew, however, soon ashamed of indulging this remedy; and
starting up, he cried, "Well, then, I will give Mr. Allworthy the only
instance he requires of my obedience. I will go this moment- but
whither?- why, let Fortune direct; since there is no other who thinks
it of any consequence what becomes of this wretched person, it shall
be a matter of equal indifference to myself. Shall I alone regard what
no other- Ha! have I not reason to think there is another?- one whose
value is above that of the whole world!- I may, I must imagine my
Sophia is not indifferent to what becomes of me. Shall I then leave
this only friend- and such a friend? Shall I not stay with her?-
Where- how can I stay with her? Have I any hopes of ever seeing her,
though she was as desirous as myself, without exposing her to the
wrath of her father, and to what purpose? Can I think of soliciting
such a creature to consent to her own ruin? Shall I indulge any
passion of mine at such a price? Shall I lurk about this country
like a thief, with such intentions?- No, I disdain, I detest the
thought. Farewel, Sophia; farewel, most lovely, most beloved-" Here
passion stopped his mouth, and found a vent at his eyes.
And now having taken a resolution to leave the country, he began
to debate with himself whither he should go. The world, as Milton
phrases it, lay all before him; and Jones, no more than Adam, had
any man to whom he might resort for comfort or assistance. All his
acquaintance were the acquaintance of Mr. Allworthy; and he had no
reason to expect any countenance from them, as that gentleman had
withdrawn his favour from him. Men of great and good characters should
indeed be very cautious how they discard their dependents; for the
consequence to the unhappy sufferer is being discarded by all others.
What course of life to pursue, or to what business to apply himself,
was a second consideration: and here the prospect was all a melancholy
void. Every profession, and every trade, required length of time,
and what was worse, money; for matters are so constituted, that
"nothing out of nothing" is not a truer maxim in physics than in
politics; and every man who is greatly destitute of money, is on
that account entirely excluded from all means of acquiring it.
At last the Ocean, that hospitable friend to the wretched, opened
her capacious arms to receive him; and he instantly resolved to accept
her kind invitation. To express myself less figuratively, he
determined to go to sea.
This thought indeed no sooner suggested itself, than he eagerly
embraced it; and having presently hired horses, he set out for Bristol
to put it in execution.
But before we attend him on this expedition, we shall resort
awhile to Mr. Western's, and see what further happened to the charming
Sophia.
Chapter 3
Containing several dialogues
The morning in which Mr. Jones departed, Mrs. Western summoned
Sophia into her apartment; and having first acquainted her that she
had obtained her liberty of her father, she proceeded to read her a
long lecture on the subject of matrimony; which she treated not as a
romantic scheme of happiness arising from love, as it hath been
described by the poets; nor did she mention any of those purposes
for which we are taught by divines to regard it as instituted by
sacred authority; she considered it rather as a fund in which
prudent women deposit their fortunes to the best advantage, in order
to receive a larger interest for them than they could have elsewhere.
When Mrs. Western had finished, Sophia answered, "That she was
very incapable of arguing with a lady of her aunt's superior knowledge
and experience, especially on a subject which she had so very little
considered, as this of matrimony."
"Argue with me, child!" replied the other; "I do not indeed expect
it. I should have seen the world to very little purpose truly, if I am
to argue with one of your years. I have taken this trouble, in order
to instruct you. The antient philosophers, such as Socrates,
Alcibiades, and others, did not use to argue with their scholars.
You are to consider me, child, as Socrates, not asking your opinion,
but only informing you of mine." From which last words the reader
may possibly imagine, that this lady had read no more of the
philosophy of Socrates, than she had of that of Alcibiades; and indeed
we cannot resolve his curiosity as to this point.
"Madam," cries Sophia, "I have never presumed to controvert any
opinion of yours; and this subject, as I said, I have never yet
thought of, and perhaps never may."
"Indeed, Sophy," replied the aunt, "this dissimulation with me is
very foolish. The French shall as soon persuade me that they take
foreign towns in defence only of their own country, as you can
impose on me to believe you have never yet thought seriously of
matrimony. How can you, child, affect to deny that you have considered
of contracting an alliance, when you so well know I am acquainted with
the party with whom you desire to contract it?- an alliance as
unnatural, and contrary to your interest, as a separate league with
the French would be to the interest of the Dutch! But however, if
you have not hitherto considered of this matter, I promise you it is
now high time, for my brother is resolved immediately to conclude
the treaty with Mr. Blifil; and indeed I am a sort of guarantee in the
affair, and have promised your concurrence."
"Indeed, madam," cries Sophia, "this is the only instance in which I
must disobey both yourself and my father. For this is a match which
requires very little consideration in me to refuse."
"If I was not as great philosopher as Socrates himself," returned
Mrs. Western, "you would overcome my patience. What objection can
you have to the young gentleman?"
"A very solid objection, in my opinion," says Sophia- "I hate him."
"Will you never learn a proper use of words?" answered the aunt.
"Indeed, child, you should consult Bailey's Dictionary. It is
impossible you should hate a man from whom you have received no
injury. By hatred, therefore, you mean no more than dislike, which
is no sufficient objection against your marrying of him. I have
known many couples, who have entirely disliked each other, lead very
comfortable genteel lives. Believe me, child, I know these things
better than you. You will allow me, I think, to have seen the world,
in which I have not an acquaintance who would not rather be thought to
dislike her husband than to like him. The contrary is such
out-of-fashion romantic nonsense, that the very imagination of it is
shocking."
"Indeed, madam," replied Sophia, "I shall never marry a man I
dislike. If I promise my father never to consent to any marriage
contrary to his inclinations, I think I may hope he will never force
me into that state contrary to my own."
"Inclinations!" cries the aunt, with some warmth. "Inclinations! I
am astonished at your assurance. A young woman of your age, and
unmarried, to talk of inclinations! But whatever your inclinations may
be, brother is resolved; nay, since you talk of inclinations, I
shall advise him to hasten the treaty. Inclinations!"
Sophia then flung herself upon her knees, and tears began to trickle
from her shining eyes. She entreated her aunt, "to have mercy upon
her, and not to resent so cruelly her unwillingness to make herself
miserable;" often urging, "that she alone was concerned, and that
her happiness only was at stake."
As a bailiff, when well authorized by his writ, having possessed
himself of the person of some unhappy debtor, views all his tears
without concern; in vain the wretched captive attempts to raise
compassion; in vain the tender wife bereft of her companion, the
little prattling boy, or frighted girl, are mentioned as inducements
to reluctance. The noble bumtrap, blind and deaf to every circumstance
of distress, greatly rises above all the motives to humanity, and into
the hands of the gaoler resolves to deliver his miserable prey.
Not less blind to the tears, or less deaf to every entreaty of
Sophia was the politic aunt, nor less determined was she to deliver
over the trembling maid into the arms of the gaoler Blifil. She
answered with great impetuosity, "So far, madam, from your being
concerned alone, your concern is the least, or surely the least
important. It is the honour of your family which is concerned in
this alliance; you are only the instrument. Do you conceive, mistress,
that in an intermarriage between kingdoms, as when a daughter of
France is married into Spain, the princess herself is alone considered
in the match? No! it is a match between two kingdoms, rather than
between two persons. The same happens in great families such as
ours. The alliance between the families is the principal matter. You
ought to have a greater regard for the honour of your family than
for your own person; and if the example of a princess cannot inspire
you with these noble thoughts, you cannot surely complain at being
used no worse than all princesses are used."
"I hope, madam," cries Sophia, with a little elevation of voice,
"I shall never do anything to dishonour my family; but as for Mr.
Blifil, whatever may be the consequence, I am resolved against him,
and no force shall prevail in his favour."
Western, who had been within hearing during the greater part of
the preceding dialogue, had now exhausted all his patience; he
therefore entered the room in a violent passion, crying, "D--n me
then if shatunt ha'un, d--n me if shatunt, that's all- that's all;
d--n me if shatunt."
Mrs. Western had collected a sufficient quantity of wrath for the
use of Sophia; but she now transferred it all to the squire.
"Brother," said she, "it is astonishing that you will interfere in a
matter which you had totally left to my negotiation. Regard to my
family hath made me take upon myself to be the mediating power, in
order to rectify those mistakes in policy which you have committed
in your daughter's education. For, brother, it is you- it is your
preposterous conduct which hath eradicated all the seeds that I had
